Lifespan
by proudmarveltrash
Summary: Sequel to First Avengers. CA:WS. Joanne Moore is a lot of things- doctor, engineer, Avenger, and girlfriend of Steve Rogers. After everything she's seen in her longer-than-usual lifetime, she didn't think anything could surprise her anymore. When HYDRA resurfaces to prove her wrong, she'll have a lot more than a few bad guys to deal with. OC
1. Exercise

**Well, here we are! The sequel to the First Avengers. Just a heads up to all of you- one of the most common comments I get on my stories is that people want me to stray more from the MCU and do more original writing. I've gotten this suggestion so often that I'm finally going to wise up and listen!**

 **This chapter will follow the beginning of the movie, but from here on I'll be adding much more of my own take on the MCU. I hope you'll agree with the direction I take this story. I would also like to point out that due to school, work, and other stories keeping me busy, I'll only be updating once a week.**

 **As always, enjoy. :)**

* * *

 **Exercise**

* * *

"No no no no no!"

"Jo-"

"Uh-uh."

"If you would just-"

"Nope."

"Would you-"

" _No._ "

Steve sighed, and even from underneath the comfy blankets I had pulled over my face I could imagine that same disappointed look on his face he always got when I refused to go on his morning run with him. Usually he let me get away with it and stay in bed, but something this morning made him especially stubborn. "All right, that's it."

"What's that supposed to-" My sentence was cut short when Steve grabbed my ankles and pulled me towards the end of the bed. "Hey, cut that out!"

" _Nope_ ," he mimicked me, popping the 'p' sound with a little grin as he crumpled my blanket into a ball and tossed it to the opposite side of the bed. "I have to leave for a mission today, which means you're coming whether you like it or not."

I continued to moan dramatically as he held onto my arms and pulled me out of the bed, pushing me towards the bathroom. He was already dressed in his running gear, and I complained even louder when I saw that he had laid mine out on the sink. " _Steve._ "

"Exercise is good for you." Steve clapped his hands on my shoulders with a small smile and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind himself. "Ten minutes!"

"I hate you!" I yelled through the door.

"Love you too!"

After childishly staring at my feet and kicking the floor a few times, mumbling to myself about dating the biggest workout buff in the world, I switched the shower on and resigned myself to my fate. There was no arguing with Steve when he got himself all worked up like this, especially if he was leaving for any period of time.

Thirteen minutes later - I thrive off of small victories - Steve was pulling me out of our home and leading me towards the Capitol Building where he ran every morning at an ungodly hour. Seriously, the sun was barely peeking over the horizon. Ridiculous.

"I'm glad you decided to join me this morning," he stated with a smirk that made me glare up at him. "You're so thoughtful. I just wanted to let you know that it's okay if you can't keep up."

I scoffed and crossed my arms over my chest, shaking my head. "Not gonna work. You can't trick me into going any faster than a brisk walk."

" _Trick_ you?" Steve clicked his tongue. "Who do you take me for? I'm simply stating that I completely understand if your lack of exercise has slowed you down. If you ever need a break, don't even bother catching up to tell me. You just sit down and take all the time you need."

Narrowing my eyes even further, I dropped my arms to my side as we reached the start of the bridge where he would begin his run. "You know what, Rogers? You're on. First person to finish three laps wins."

"This isn't-"

"This is _so_ a competition now," I corrected before he could even finish. "First to three. Ready? Set..." I whirled around and broke into a sprint, not caring in the slightest that Steve was calling me a cheater behind my back. You know the old saying- cheaters always win, winners always cheat. Something like that, anyways.

I managed to stay ahead of Steve for a good five minutes before I heard his footsteps closing in behind me. Not ready to give in yet, I picked up the pace as much as my feet would allow and hurried past another jogger. "Sorry!" I called back over my shoulder when I nearly bumped into him.

Twenty minutes later I had just completed the first lap, and damn was I starting to feel it. A slow burn was spreading over my calves and my chest while I imagined my lungs rolling their imaginary eyes at the thought of having to continue supporting my heavy breathing. Despite my best efforts, I knew I was slowing down and that any minute I would see that stupid, smug little face.

When Steve passed me while laughing, I huffed a low, "Dammit!" and glared down at my legs. "You're genetically modified to keep up with him, you slackers!"

No matter how hard I pushed, I never caught back up to Steve. I actually gave up after the second lap to collapse against a tree. Cleanliness be damned, I was ridiculously tempted to just lay down in the grass and take a nap. I might have, too, if another person didn't join me in sitting against the same tree.

I glanced up from staring longingly at the ground to see who had joined me, and saw that it was the same jogger I had passed earlier. He was holding his stomach and wheezing, so I took pity on the poor guy and started fanning him with my hand. He laughed breathlessly at the practically useless act, which I responded to with a tired half-smile.

Steve ran up to us not even a minute later, and the bastard didn't even seem all that winded. He laughed at the sight of the two of us on the ground before turning to the stranger. "Need a medic?"

"I need a new set of lungs. Dude, you just ran, like, 13 miles in 30 minutes."

"Thanks to this one." He held his hand out to help me up, which I normally would have turned down for the sake of sass, but I was way too tired to care at the moment. "Her laziness got me off to a late start."

"Really?" the man chuckled, also accepting Steve's hand when offered. "Blaming others for your misgivings? You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap... Did you just take it? I assume you just took it."

"Don't flatter him," I scoffed. "His ego is big enough as it is."

Steve sent me a mockingly appalled look before clicking his tongue and pointing at the man's sweatshirt. "What unit you with?"

"58th Pararescue. But now I'm working down at the VA. Sam Wilson," he introduced, holding his hand out to shake Steve's.

"Steve Rogers."

"Yeah, I kind of put that together." Sam smiled at me and held his hand out, both gestures that I returned. "And you must be Joanne Moore."

"Just Jo, but yeah. Nice to meet you."

Sam nodded, looking at both of us between motioning between us. "Must have freaked you out, coming home after the whole defrosting thing."

I shrugged nonchalantly, though the mention of it still made my back tense. It was nowhere near as bad a reaction as before, which I had Dr. Mitchell to thank for. I hadn't seen him since moving to Washington, but I still talked to him on the phone once or twice a month.

Steve observed my reaction knowingly before placing a hand on my back and nodding at Sam. "It takes some getting used to. It was good to meet you, Sam."

We had just turned our backs and taken a few steps away when Sam called after us. "It's your bed, right?" I stopped moving, which in turn made Steve stop. We both looked back to Sam, who had crossed his arms over his chest. "Your bed's too soft. When I was over there I'd sleep on the ground, use rocks for pillows, like a caveman. Now I'm home, lying in my bed, and it's like..."

"Lying on a marshmallow," Steve answered for him. "Feels like I'm gonna sink right to the floor."

"The blankets," I added. "I got so used to the cold that now being warm is almost... constricting. Like I can't breathe."

Sam and Steve both nodded, and Steve's hand on my back turned into him running his knuckles down my spine while he talked to Sam. "How long?"

"Two tours. You two must miss the good old days, huh?"

"Well, things aren't so bad," Steve shrugged. "Food's a lot better. We used to boil everything."

"Video games have pretty much taken over my life," I added.

"No polio is good."

"I'm not quite sure how I ever survived without a cell phone."

"Internet, so helpful. I've been reading that a lot trying to catch up."

"I really like our microwave."

Sam had been looking back and forth between the two of us as we listed off some of the better parts of skipping ahead 70 years into the future, nodding along with each new item. When we finished, he adopted a thoughtful look before smiling. "Marvin Gaye, 1972, Trouble Man soundtrack. Everything you missed jammed into one album."

Steve pulled out a palm-sized journal that he had almost completely filled with suggestions on what to catch up on from different people and added Sam's idea to the next available page. "I'll put it on the list."

His cell phone dinged from the inside of his pocket, and I pointed at it to justify my earlier claim of needing it. "See? Crucial part of our day."

Steve chuckled and returned the phone to his pocket. "Right. Well, duty calls. Thanks for the run, Sam. If that's what you want to call a run."

"Oh, that's how it is?"

"That's how it is," Steve agreed sarcastically with a nod.

"Well, hey," Sam shrugged. "Any time you wanna stop by the VA and make me look good in front of the girl at the front desk just let me know."

Steve nodded with a small laugh before smiling at me. "I'll see you when I get back?"

I hummed thoughtfully, copying his earlier smirk. "If you're lucky."

Steve shot me his best unamused look before bending down to kiss my cheek just as a sleek black car pulled up to the side of the curb. We all watched as the window rolled down to reveal Natasha sitting in the driver's seat with a playful grin. "Hey, fellas. Any of you know where the Smithsonian is? I'm here to pick up a fossil."

"That's hilarious," Steve said flatly while rolling his eyes. When he turned back to me, I just barely caught the well-hidden concern in his features. "You'll be safe on the way home, right?"

"No," I deadpanned. "I will take every available risk within a fifteen mile radius of myself."

"That's my girl."

I watched Steve climbed into the car with Natasha while Sam bent down to get a better look at the interior. When he and Natasha made eye contact, he nodded at her and I wondered if he recognized her as well. "How you doing?"

She smiled back at him as Steve closed the door and looked back to Sam and I. "Can't run everywhere."

"No you can't."

The window rolled up just as Natasha pulled away, the tires screeching loudly against the pavement with how quickly she sped off. An urgent mission, then. Lately it seemed as if Steve and I had switched roles at SHIELD. Even though I was technically a senior member to him, I was more used to having Clint as a partner than anyone else.

Since Clint had gone on an extended vacation at his farmhouse, I had slowed down at work. Steve, however, was going out more frequently than ever. He was gone at least once a week, whether that be staying a night at the Triskelion or a long mission outside of the country.

When Natasha and Steve were out of view, Sam let out a low whistle before turning back to me with his hands on his hips. "So, you and Captain America?"

"It's a thing, I guess," I answered vaguely with a shrug.

"Living together?"

"Also a thing." I turned from the road where the car had disappeared to Sam, using my thumb to gesture towards the sidewalk. "Wanna grab some breakfast?"

"I know a pretty great diner a few blocks south of here," he offered, already setting off.

I followed on his right, throwing my hand out in front of us. "Lead the way, buddy."


	2. Romantic

**Romantic**

* * *

While I was waiting for Steve to get home, I tried to busy myself with cleaning before that quickly became too boring to hold my attention and I switched to dialing Clint's home number on my cell phone. I tucked the phone between my shoulder and ear while I rifled through the couch cushions in search of the TV remote.

The phone clicked to signal that he had picked up before Clint spoke. "You're late, Annie."

"So I called you a few days later than I promised. Sue me, Barton."

"Don't tempt me."

"Mm." I flipped over a throw pillow before sighing with annoyance. "Why does my remote hate me? All I want to do is watch some damn TV and it's throwing a fit."

"Steve's gone, isn't he?" Clint chuckled knowingly.

I gave up on the remote and walked over to the television, switching it on before hitting the mute button and dropping onto my couch, only half-watching the show it was on. "He's on a mission with Nat. Again."

"Aww, poor Annie. I can imagine the sad, teary-eyed look on your face now," he teased. "You miss him!"

"I _will_ fly all the way out there just to hit you."

Clint laughed off my threat, just like he usually did right before I smacked him. Then I heard him hum, "Hmm?" before mumbling something away from the phone. "Lila says hi, and that she misses you. She wants to know when you're coming back."

"Tell Lila to go to bed," I started, grinning at my phone. "I'll visit soon."

He repeated my message to the girl before reiterating that it was past her bedtime. "So, seriously. How are you and Steve doing?"

"Same as always." I shrugged to myself, pulling the pillow out from behind my back to rest in my lap as I fiddled with the frayed corner. "Nothing's really changed except the physicality of our relationship."

"Have you said it yet?"

I pulled my phone away from my ear to glare at it before pressing it back and tossing the pillow off my lap as I stood from the couch to mindlessly pace the space behind the couch. "Not yet."

Clint groaned dramatically. " _Jo._ "

"You're not my relationship counselor!" I argued, leaning forward onto the back of the couch. "Steve and I are just fine."

"Jo. You know that I think you're great, but I also know you pretty well. And I'm sure I'm not the first person to tell you that you're pretty bad at letting people know you care."

"I don't need to let him know I care. He already knows that. I didn't drive all the way to D.C. and move in with him because I _don't_ care."

Clint sighed again, and I could imagine himself slapping his forehead at the harsh _smack_ sound that came through the speakers. "Annie, I have put far too much work into your happiness to let you fuck it all up now. I need you to listen to me _very carefully_ right now, okay?"

"Clint-"

" _Joanne Moore shut your fucking mouth and listen."_

Once again I stared at my phone, wishing I really was close enough to slap some sense into Clint. Since I wasn't however, I would just have to sit through another one of his lectures. "Fine," I relented. "Save my very obviously failing relationship, Dr. Barton."

"That's better. Do you have any candles?"

* * *

After a long conversation followed by a trip to the grocery store, I found myself once again on the phone with Clint while standing in the dimly lit living room with a bag of loose flower petals in my hand. "Are the petals necessary?" I asked for the third time, holding them slightly away from me.

"They're _crucial_ ," Clint insisted. "Out of the two of us, which has been very happily married for fourteen years and which has been in zero successful romantic relationships?"

"… Screw it." I set the phone to speaker before laying it on the coffee table and holding the plastic bag in both hands. "Where do I put them?"

"On the bed. No, wait! Make a trail from the front door to the bedroom. Yeah, that's good," Clint murmured, complimenting himself while I rolled my eyes. This all seemed stupid to me, but I was also the least romantic person I knew. And I knew Bruce Banner. Seriously, I'm admittedly very sucky at this type of thing.

So, I went along with Clint's instructions. All the way from the path of petals and the tea candles on the coffee table to what I should wear. "You want me to do _what_?" I held the closet door open and looked back over my shoulder at the phone I had set on the bed.

"Trust me, wearing a guy's clothes is golden. Laura did it this one time, and I swear to god, Annie, I couldn't-"

"Okay!" I interrupted, furiously shaking my head. "I don't want to hear about you and Laura. _Ever._ I can't even… _no._ " I turned back to Steve's clothes, narrowing my eyes and biting at my bottom lip. "If you're lying to me about this, I'm going to kick your ass."

"If this doesn't work, I'll _let_ you kick my ass."

Still shaking my head skeptically, I pulled one of Steve's tee shirts off the hangar and tossed it onto the bed before undressing to change. Just as I pulled his shirt on over my The sound of the front door unlocking set my heart racing, and I closed the closet door as silently as possible before hurrying back over to my phone. "Steve's home. Gotta go."

"Don't forget the-"

I ended the call before looking around the room, unsure of what to do with my phone. When Steve called my name, I panicked and tossed it underneath the bed. Moment of truth. "Jo? Why are there candles? Wait, are these… roses? Oh my god."

Instant regret was threatening to wash over me, but I shook my hands out to push it back before running my fingers back through my hair and clearing my throat. "You got this," I whispered to myself with a determined nod.

I walked forward and pulled the door open, smiling at Steve when he looked at me with a thoroughly confused expression. My smile didn't last long when I saw just how exhausted he looked. He had propped his shield against the wall next to the front door, and even though he was still in his uniform I could tell by the way he was holding himself that he had taken a beating this time. "Oh no," I mumbled, clicking my tongue as I went to examine him up close. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing." Steve sighed, shaking his head. "The mission just… wasn't what I was expecting, is all. I need to talk to Fury about it in the morning, and Natasha after that."

I paused my examination of the small scrapes on his arm to look back up at his face, quickly looking over the subtle disappointment on his features. "Okay… Do I need to kick Nat's ass? I mean, I would probably end up getting myself killed, but I'm willing to risk it. Clint might be angry, but he'll get over it. I've been practicing this one stealth maneuver-"

"No, no," he chuckled, taking a light hold of my wrists. "While I appreciate the offer, I don't think violence will be necessary. Things were just a bit more stressful than I had anticipated."

"And these?" I traced my hand over the light bruise under his jawline that was already disappearing thanks to the serum. "Wait, don't tell me. Some jackass made fun of the shield again." His guilty little shrug was enough to make me groan with irritation. "Dammit, Steve. I didn't make that shield for you to _not_ use. It's supposed to protect you."

He continued to quietly laugh at my worry as he pulled my hand away from the admittedly irrelevant injury, holding both of my hands in between his. "I really am fine. Now, what _I'd_ really like to know is why there are candles and flowers in our living room, and why you're wearing my shirt."

I shrugged nonchalantly, choosing staring at our connected hands instead of looking him in the eye. "I was being, y'know. Romantic."

There was a small pause before he spoke again, and I could hear that stupid little smirk he was undoubtedly wearing in his voice. "Jo, did you talk to Clint today?"

"Shut up," I muttered in lieu of an answer, shoving at him when he continued to laugh away. "Stop laughing at me! I swear, I will never do anything nice for you ever again."

"It's nice!" I crossed my arms stubbornly over my chest and he tilted his head to the side, bending down slightly to be eye-level with me. "I really do appreciate it, Jo. Thank you."

I traded my frown for a smirk, glancing up at Steve teasingly. "I really hope that's not the only thanks I'll be getting for going through all this effort." It was my turn to laugh at him when a faint flush crept over his cheeks, meaning it was his turn to pout. Before he could object, even as a joke, I uncrossed my arms to slide them over his shoulders and lock my fingers behind his neck, twisting my fingers into his hair. There was only time for his eyes to briefly meet mine before they were closed, my lips meeting his in a simple kiss.

For all my teasing and his shyness, Steve was never timid in our love life. This fact was reiterated as Steve used one hand to cup my cheek while the other wrapped around my waist, my response being to push myself onto my tiptoes to gain better leverage in our kiss. Still, I did _love_ to tease him. I lightly nipped his bottom lip, my lips twitching into a grin when he sighed.

I moved my kisses faintly upwards, kissing at the corner of his mouth before moving to the light purple splotches along his jawline. He turned his face so that it was buried in my neck, his cool breath drifting down and over my collarbone. "I love you," he breathed, pulling me tighter against him.

This was always the part that I knew hurt both of us, but I could never convince myself to change. I leaned my cheek against his, my nose pressing a small dimple into his cheek. "I know."

He nodded against my neck while his thumb traced small circles over my hip, and I waited patiently for him to make the next move. It was difficult for me to be patient with anybody, but I made the effort for him in these situations. It wasn't that I _didn't_ love Steve, because I honestly, truly did. The problem was that I had only ever told one person that I loved them, in any manner of them phrase, and that really hadn't ended well for me.

It was a selfish fear, but I felt as if I admitted just how much I cared about Steve out loud it would be like taunting the universe. It would sit back and laugh at me, shaking its metaphorical head. _"Oh, you love him? Well, let's just have as many terrible things happen to him as possible until you can't stand it anymore, and then I'll go ahead and rip him away from you forever."_ Yeah, that's probably how that would go down.

Just as he always did, Steve recovered after a few moments of quiet contemplation where I had no idea what he was thinking about. He shifted his lips so that instead of brushing carefully over the base of my neck they were pressing a prolonged kiss to my forehead, his hand trailing up to lock more firmly over the dip in my waist with a squeeze that reflexively made me jerk to the side.

After bringing his lips down to kiss mine one, two more times, Steve moved the hand that had been cradling my cheek to lace his fingers through mine and pull me back down the hallway towards the bedroom.


	3. Fine

**Fine**

* * *

I kept my eyes closed as I woke up, ignoring the light that filtered through the window inconveniently placed to display the sunrise every morning, despite the curtains I had hung over it. I knew Steve was awake by his thumb tracing small circles over the back of my hand that was intertwined with mine. It wasn't often we had a moment to ourselves, with nothing and nobody to interrupt, so I continued to breathe deeply and evenly as if the sun had never roused me from sleep.

Unfortunately, Steve is not so easy to fool. "How long are you going to pretend you're sleeping?"

I groaned with annoyance as I turned to face him, prying my tired eyes open to glare at his smile. Leave it to me to end up with a morning person, a.k.a freak of nature. "How do you always know when I'm lying?"

"Too much time with Natasha," he chuckled. "And absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I just know you."

"I want to know when you're lying too."

"I never lie to you."

"Liar."

He narrowed his eyes at me and nudged his face an inch closer to mine, just close enough for me to feel his cool breath breezing against my nose. "How would you know? You never know when I'm lying."

"Touché." I lowered my eyes to our hands resting between us and squeezed his fingers before tucking them between my cheek and the pillow. "We should do something today. I'm going stir crazy from being in the house so much lately."

Steve's eyes were on his hand that I had taken from him as he answered, his smile turning into a regretful grimace. "I have to go talk to Fury today. Whatever it is he's up to, I don't like it. I don't trust it. He's already turned my team against me once, who knows what he might do next?"

"You're so dramatic," I whined, releasing his hand to roll over so that I was no longer facing him as I tugged the blanket over my head. "Fine. Leave me. Go hang out with your best friend Fury. See what I care."

"Who's being dramatic now?" Steve poked beneath my ribs when I didn't answer, laughing quietly to himself when I slapped his hand away and snuggled myself deeper into the bed. "We can do something later tonight. I just have a few things I need to get done before we do. Can you handle a few more hours by yourself?"

I shrugged beneath the blanket, though it was more out of pure stubbornness than anything else. I really was dying to get out of the house, but I understood Steve's reluctance to let Fury carry on uninterrupted. The SHIELD Director was anything but trustworthy, so how could I reprimand Steve for sharing my opinion of the man?

While I sulked Steve pulled the sheet away from my head to press his lips against my shoulder in a quick kiss before rustling the bed as he stood. "I'll be quick, I promise. Give your girlfriend Clint a call, I'll be back hours before you two are finished gossiping."

"I'm gonna tell him you said all that," I threatened as he made his way into the bathroom, and I could only imagine the smirk on his face as he waved at me over his shoulder before closing the door.

* * *

I tried to follow Steve's advice- albeit mocking advice- and get in touch with Clint while he was at the Triskelion, only to have the call go straight to a voicemail that informed me he would be unavailable for the next few days. After grumbling to myself about idiot friends that didn't bother letting me know when they would be out of service for a bit longer than might have been strictly socially acceptable, I decided to reach out to a newer friend of mine.

Sam had given me his cell number after we had breakfast the other day, and considering all my other friends were either hours away or otherwise occupied at the moment, I saw no harm in giving him a call.

"It's good to hear from you," Sam said after I let him know who was calling him at nine in the morning. "I was starting to worry you might have actually carried through with your threat to get yourself in trouble just to keep yourself from being bored."

"I did set a few things on fire. They were candles, so there wasn't any real danger, but y'know. I tried."

"Right," he chuckled. "Somehow I get the feeling that you could make bubble wrap dangerous if you set your mind to it."

"I do have that mindset…" I paused slightly, tapping my fingers against the kitchen counter I stood behind. "You doing anything today? I've been shacked up just a little too long."

Sam didn't say anything for a moment, and I almost worried we had been disconnected. Right before I pulled the phone away from my ear to make sure he was still there he spoke up again. "I'm doing a session with my vets over at the VA in about an hour. If you wanna drop by- make me look good in front of that girl working the front desk- my offer still stands."

My hand stilled over the counter, my palm pressing flat against the cool surface as I chewed on my bottom lip. "What, you mean join your therapy session? I've already done the whole therapy thing."

"You don't have to participate if you don't want to," he quickly explained. "I wouldn't make you do anything you were uncomfortable with. But if you're as bored as you say you are, what harm is there in just showing up? Just as a way to pass the time."

"Right," I scoffed, pushing myself away from the counter to walk into the living room and look out the small window. I knew Sam really wasn't saying anything about my mentality, but it had been a touchy subject for me the last couple years. In all honesty, I was more afraid of being recognized by the others at the VA more than I was of returning to therapy. Which gave me an idea. "You wouldn't mind if I dressed up, would you?"

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, I was walking into the Veteran's Affairs center dressed in an outfit I wouldn't normally have worn, but I didn't want to be recognized. I spotted Sam greeting men and women with a smile as they passed him on their way into a small room. I waited for all of them to go inside before I walked over, winking at Sam with a smile as I passed him and took a seat near the back of the group.

Sam stood behind a podium in front of us, his eyes pausing over me for only a moment before he addressed the group. It was an informal greeting, telling me that he had probably been seeing these same people for some time now.

In fact, the entire meeting was pretty laid back. Sam shared his own story from his time overseas in a war I had been reading about in my spare time, disappointed that even after two world wars the world still hadn't learned any better. He talked about the deplorable living conditions, the innocent people caught in the crossfire, the soldiers who had never come home.

After he finished discussing his perspective of the war, Sam allowed a short silence to settle over the group before he asked if anyone else had anything they'd like to share. Nobody spoke up for a few moments, but after some gentle persuasion, three of the men in the room followed his lead by sharing their own deployment stories.

The first person to speak about how the war had affected her after-the-fact was the woman sitting two chairs in front of me, her head hanging low while I assumed she was staring either at the floor or at her hands that she had gathered into her lap.

"I was diagnosed with PTSD about eight months ago. At first I didn't want to believe that anything was wrong, but when I… I tackled my husband when he came home early from work, because I didn't recognize him. He wasn't supposed to be there, so I just assumed…"

She paused for a moment to breathe deeply before continuing, lifting her head slightly. "I've been going to therapy three times a week ever since, but the thing is, I think it's getting worse. A cop pulled me over last week. He thought I was drunk because I swerved to miss a plastic bag… I thought it was an IED."

"Some stuff you leave there," Sam nodded. "Other stuff you bring back. It's our job to figure out how we're gonna carry it. Is it gonna be in a big suitcase, or in a little man-purse? It's up to you." The group nodded along with him as he spoke, while I brushed my hand over my mouth in thought. The action must have caught his attention, because Sam's eyes snapped to mine.

That was when he sprung it on me. "We have a new member with us today… What's your name, soldier?"

A few people turned back to glance at me, though there wasn't much to look at underneath my too large hoodie (thanks, Steve) and the baseball cap resting on my head. A few names ran through my head, but eventually I settled on, "Annie."

Sam's lips twitched into a half-smile, unaware that I wasn't completely lying. It was just a nickname. "You have a story, Annie?"

"Nothing special," I shrugged, subconsciously shrinking in my seat. Usually dealing with unwanted attention wasn't a big deal for me, but I had only come here under the pretense that I wouldn't have to speak. "I saw some bad things. I got over it."

"Why don't you tell us anyway?"

I got the distinct feeling that Sam didn't usually push people, especially judging by the looks the other veterans were shooting him right about now, but if he wanted to hear what had happened to me- fine. After mumbling a quick, " _Liar_ ," underneath my breath, I sighed and spoke so he could hear me. "Where do I even start?"

"Did you do anything before the war?" I didn't know if Sam knew anything about my life before World War II, and if he did then he was doing a pretty good job of hiding it. I suppose I could be thankful for that, at least.

"You kidding me? I had an entire life already set up and going strong. I had a great job with a great paycheck, great friends… somebody I loved. I could have done anything I wanted. I was living the dream."

When I stopped talking, Sam nodded his head encouragingly and leaned forward to rest his elbows in the podium. "And then you enlisted?"

"More or less. I was already working with the army, just not as a soldier. A few extenuating circumstances later, I found myself wearing the uniform. I was assigned to a small task force- there were only eight of us. Our mission was to track down and take out this nasty guy who hurt more people than you could probably count... Not all of us made it."

"I have this problem," I quickly changed the subject. "I'm too dependent on people. For as long as I can remember I've never been comfortable with being alone. When I'm left with just myself I get antsy, can't sit still. It started with a childhood friend. Then I made an army buddy. Then my task force. The list goes on… I don't really do well on my own."

I darted back and forth in my explanations, jumping from what had happened during the war to what was happening now. I was rarely so scatterbrained, and I could only assumed that the topic of discussion was what had me so messed up.

"The last mission we went on, there were only two of us. Me and one of my closest friends at the time- Grant," I half-lied again, using Steve's middle name as a thin alias. "We had finally pinned our target down to a place he had no possible way of escaping from. It took a while, but eventually we beat him. It wasn't as easy as we'd hoped, though.

"See, taking him out and skipping back home would have been too easy. When is anything ever actually _easy_? Never," I scoffed. "No, we didn't just skip back home. We were in this plane, and we couldn't keep it in the air…"

I rubbed anxiously at the back of my neck, regretting ever delving into this realm of my memory. "We went down. We both made it out alive, miraculously, though we were both, uh… in comas, for a while. When we woke up, everything was just so _different._ Our friends weren't around, our mission was supposedly over. Neither of us knew what to do with ourselves."

"But you had each other?" Sam asked, talking again for the first time since I had started rambling. Hearing his voice again reminded me that I wasn't alone, and I stopped staring at the wall only to see that everyone in the room was now turned to stare at me.

Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, I tried to end the conversation by shrugging my shoulders and leaning in my seat so that my face was mostly hidden. "I'm fine now. He's fine now. Everything is fine."

The room was filled with silent tension, and I refused to look up and see whether I was still being stared at or not. The worst part was that their gazes had no longer been sympathetic- they were _pitying_. I didn't need pity, least of all from people who had less than half an idea of who I was or what I had been through.

Sam eventually broke the silence only to end the session, thanking everyone for coming. I waited until I was the last person in the room before standing from the metal chair with a shove and marching out of the room. I thought then that I would have been better off being bored at home.

Especially when I saw Steve waiting for me by the doors with an unreadable expression on his face.


	4. History Annulled

**History Annulled**

* * *

"I don't want to talk about it," I told Steve before he could bring up my ramblings. I had no idea just how much he had overheard, but by the look on his face I knew that it had been too much for him to simply drop it. "Not here, not now. I just want to go."

Steve's face remained thoughtful for a moment before he smiled softly with a nod, placing a hand on the small of my back. "Come on. I still owe you a date."

I hoped we could slip out of the building without being stopped, but of course nothing ever happened like I hoped it would. Sam stepped slightly in front of us as we walked towards the doors, his hands shoved into his pockets. "Look who it is, the running man."

Steve looked down to me, silently asking if I was comfortable in the situation. I would have preferred to simply leave, but there was something I wanted to say to Sam first. "You're a real douchebag, you know that?"

Steve snorted at my side- just barely covering it up with a fake cough as he rubbed his hand over his nose and mouth- while Sam chuckled quietly. "That's fair. But you can't say it wasn't helpful."

"I can say whatever I damn well please."

Steve's hand on my back become a hair more firm, quietly telling me to calm down. I wasn't much of a listener, but I also wasn't so mad that I was about to go off the deep end either. While Sam had pushed me, it had also been my choice to speak up. Not that I was going to tell him that any time soon.

"I caught the last few minutes," Steve admitted. "It was pretty intense."

"We all got the same problems, brother. Guilt, regret."

Though he glanced down at me as he said the last part, I also remembered Sam's own story that he had shared about losing a friend overseas. As if reading our minds, Steve asked if Sam had lost someone.

Sam nodded, his eyes clouding over slightly. No matter how many times you remembered or talked about what happened, you could never truly get over seeing things like death. "My wingman, Riley. Flying a night mission. Standard PJ rescue op. Nothing we hadn't done 1000 times before. Until an RPG knocked Riley's dumb ass out of the sky. Nothing I could do. It's like I was up there just to watch."

"It wasn't your fault, though." Sam and Steve both looked at me as I crossed my arms over my chest with a shrug. "That's what you told everyone else, at least. Nothing you could have done. No point in blaming yourself for things you can't change."

Sam's mouth quirked up into a half-smile at my words, while Steve furrowed his eyebrows and I looked up at him. "What? Just because I didn't enjoy the session doesn't mean I didn't learn anything."

"Well, all right." Steve copied Sam's half-smile as he nodded at me before doing the same to Sam. "I don't know what you did in there, but I suggest you keep it up." He waited for Sam to respond with a nod of his own before continuing. "Jo and I have plans to go out today, but I'll see you around?"

"Oh, I'm sure you will."

* * *

Steve refused to tell me where we were going until we got there, but when I saw the front of the building I didn't need him to tell me what it was. "Our date is going to a museum?"

" _A_ _museum_ ," he scoffed after turning his motorcycle off, swinging his leg over the side before holding his hand out to help me dismount. "It's the Smithsonian, and there's one exhibit in particular I want to show you."

I hummed skeptically as we walked into the building, glancing at the dozens of exhibits we breezed past on our way to whichever one Steve had chosen for us to visit. When we walked into a lobby with an old USAF model airplane hanging above our heads and posters of Steve draped on either side of the entrance, I raised a questioning eyebrow in his direction, but he only shrugged as we continued our way inside.

The small corridor leading into the exhibit was dark and full of excited, chattering people with a picture of the American flag to our left and the quote, "Welcome back, Cap," above it, signed President Matthew Ellis. I didn't remember ever meeting the president, let alone ever being 'welcomed back', but it was a tourist attraction. I guess that meant it didn't have to be truthful.

When we actually entered the room, a voice started over the speakers. "A symbol to the nation. A hero to the world. The story of Captain America is one of honor, bravery, and sacrifice."

"And that Jo girl was pretty cool too," I whispered to Steve, who chuckled quietly and shook his head.

The next thing we saw was a board with two pictures, one of pre-serum Steve and the other of post-serum Steve. Above the first picture was the caption, "Weight: 95 lbs. Height: 5'4." Above the second was the caption, "Weight: 240 lbs. Height: 6'2."

Above the pictures, the narrator continued. "Denied enlistment due to his poor health, Steven Rogers was chosen for a program unique in the annals of American warfare. One that would transform him into the world's first Super Soldier."

Again, I stood taller on my toes to whisper in Steve's ear, "Bullshit. We didn't choose you for your health, we chose you because you were a handsome bastard. Where is this place getting its facts from?"

Steve looked down at me from underneath the baseball cap he had stolen from me to keep from being recognized, a smirk plastered to his face. "You chose me because I'm handsome?"

"Hush. You're talking over the narrator."

While Steve snorted, I glanced around at the people filling the room. Most of them were kids, carrying plastic remakes of Steve's shield or wearing red and blue t-shirts as they compared their height to Steve's. One boy standing off to the left was staring at us with his mouth practically gaping open, so I pinched Steve's arm to get his attention.

When he noticed the boy, Steve held a finger up to his lips in the universal signal for, "Shh." I had to cover my mouth with the back of my hand to quiet my laughter when he nodded slowly moments before being ushered forward by his mother.

After that was a large mural that covered half of one wall, a painting that made the corner of my lips tug into a nostalgic smile. Standing in front of the American Flag were the Howling Commandos, and on mannequins in front of the painting were each of their uniforms. I took a moment to admire each of them, only noticing when I got to the end that somebody was missing. Somebody I personally considered very important.

Me.

The narration continued overhead, but I was only half-listening at this point. "Battle-tested, Captain America and his Howling Commandos quickly earned their stripes. Their mission: taking down HYDRA, the Nazi rogue science division."

" _Our_ mission," I corrected, now narrowing my eyes at the mural. "Seriously, am I missing something? I don't mean to sound conceited or anything, but I'd appreciate just the _slightest_ recognition here." I turned to Steve with a look that was half-confusion, half-irritation. "I'm not remembering incorrectly, am I? I _was_ a Howling Commando, right? I participated in more than half of your missions, making me an honorary member at the very least."

"I'm sure you're in here somewhere," Steve assured me with a pat to the shoulder that was just the right mixture of condescending and doubtful to make me want to find whoever put this exhibit together and show them _exactly_ how feisty my time with the Commandos made me.

While we moved along to the next display, I grumbled to myself about not being mentioned even once as of yet. Despite my aggravation, however, any worries I had about being included in the group were put on hold when I saw the tall glass display of one James Buchanan Barnes, titled 'A Fallen Comrade'.

Once again, the writing displayed was narrated aloud over the speakers above us. "Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country."

When the unknown narrator finished his speech over Bucky, a video played on a small screen beside it. Though the video was silent, it showed an edited together montage of Steve and Bucky throughout the war, both making battle plans and spending leisure time together. When a snippet of the two laughing came onscreen, I absentmindedly took a gentle hold of Steve's hand.

I knew that the loss of Bucky was still fresh for him, no matter how many years had passed. I missed him too, as both a friend and a mentor. He was the first person to truly believe in me after I took the serum, even going so far as to help train me in combat and convince the other Commandos that I was worth having around. For Steve, though, I could only imagine how much his death still affected him to this day.

The last room we walked into was a small, mostly empty theater room, with only one other woman and her daughter sitting in the front stands in front of the screen. Steve and I took seats a few rows back, watching the video that had already started.

As we sat down, the film transitioned from talking about the beginning of the end for HYDRA to a shot of Peggy sitting in front of a camera. The subtitles, "Agent Peggy Carter, SSR. New York, 1953," displayed under her in garish yellow letters as she spoke.

"That was a difficult winter. A blizzard had trapped half our battalion behind the German line. Steve… Captain Rogers, he fought his way through a HYDRA blockade that had pinned our allies down for months. He saved over a thousand men. Including the man who would… Who would become my husband, as it turned out. Even after he died, Steve was still changing my life."

There was a small pause as Peggy looked away from the camera, a small indent appearing in her cheek that I recognized as her nervous tell. She used to always bite the inside of her cheek when she wasn't quite sure what to say next.

The screen flickered black for a moment before switching to a clip that made me sit just the slightest bit straighter in my seat. The shot opened on Colonel Phillips standing in front of a group of new recruits, barking out silent orders as they did jumping jacks and push-ups.

"Steve Rogers applied for the United States Army five times before he was finally accepted, though it wasn't the army who initially took him in."

The blurred background became the focus of the video, revealing Dr. Erskine standing next to a woman with her back turned to the camera. Standing next to _me_ \- the first time I was shown in the entire exhibit. I turned my head slightly to speak to Erskine- though what I said was lost to the cameras- revealing my profile as Erskine laughed at whatever it was I had muttered.

"Dr. Abraham Erskine, the creator of the Super Soldier Serum, personally recruited Rogers for the project that would turn him into the man he is today. Sadly, Dr. Erskine was assassinated by an undercover HYDRA agent before he was able to witness the fruition of his hard work."

Steve tightened his hold on my hand as I threw my other hand towards the screen in a _what-the-fuck_ manner, my mouth gaping open as I furrowed my eyebrows. I turned to him to see if he was as confused as I was as to why I was being completely written out of history, but all I got from him was a shrug with the same confused expression I wore.

When I finally heard my name, it was almost enough to make me get up and punch straight through the screen.

The video showed a room I recognized as Howard's makeshift lab that he had set up in our base camp in New Jersey. He stood next to the HYDRA submarine we had been able to get a hold of thanks to Steve stopping the HYDRA agent who had killed Erskine from getting away, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he dug around inside the machine.

I walked into the shot from off-screen, moving my mouth wordlessly as I pointed at a spot he had yet to touch. He glanced up at me with one eyebrow cocked, waving his wrench in a circle as he made what was undoubtedly a sarcastic comment, the narrator speaking over both of us.

"Howard Stark, founder of world-renowned Stark Industries, also worked closely with Captain Rogers during the war. An esteemed inventor, Stark was in charge of supplying the Howling Commandos with never-before-seen weapons and defenses, with the help of Joanne Moore."

 _Thank_ _you_ , I mouthed at the screen, nodding my head approvingly. That didn't last long, however.

"Little is known about Moore. Though it is now known that she somehow ended up on the plane with Rogers that would bring her to the year 2012, it was presumed at the time that she had died due to radiation poisoning caused by her extensive exposure to Stark's patented Vita-Rays. She was also rumored at the time to be Stark's lover, though after her apparent death this was never confirmed nor denied by Stark, who would eventually go on to marry his wife Maria with whom he would have his first and only child."

The video went on for another ten minutes after that, detailing different parts about Steve's life and 'death'. When it ended, I had no words for how I felt. Angry didn't cut it, neither did upset or shocked. After everything I had done for the world, it had all but forgotten me. My supposed 'legacy' was as a slutty tag-along.

I sat in stunned silence until Steve readjusted his grip on my hand, moving it to my upper arm, bringing me back to reality. "Come on," he urged in a low voice, standing from his seat. "I think it's time for us to go home."

I let Steve walk me out of the Smithsonian, a million thoughts whirring around my head. The foremost of which was- _is_ that all I am? I thought back to my time with Howard, with Peggy, with the Commandos, with Steve, even now with SHIELD and the other Avengers.

When was the last time I did something by myself, without any help? The more I thought about it, the more frustrated I grew that I couldn't remember _one single time_. I always knew I was dependent on others, but never had it been so blatantly shoved in my face.


	5. Shot In The Dark

**Shot In The Dark**

* * *

"I'm not upset!" I repeated for the sixth time, climbing off the back of Steve's motorcycle before he even had the chance to turn it off. I heard him scrambling to keep up with me after turning off the vehicle and following after me, shoving the keys into his pocket.

"Yeah, you keep saying that, but you seem pretty upset."

I rolled my eyes and gripped the wooden stair post, using it to swing myself up onto the stairs ahead of Steve as our sentences began to overlap with each other's. "I'm. Not. Upset."

"It's just that you keep-"

"I'm not upset!"

"Okay, I understand if you don't-"

"Would you just stop asking-"

"I can't help you if-"

"I don't need your help!"

"Oh, clearly."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nothing! You just-"

Our heated conversation that was most definitely _not_ an argument was interrupted by the loud closing of a door, and we both reflexively turned to look at the source of the sound. Standing in front of the door of the apartment across from ours was a woman I vaguely recognized as our neighbor, Kate, carrying a basket of laundry under one arm while the other held a phone to her ear.

She hung up with whoever was on the other end before pushing the phone into the pocket of her sweatpants with an embarrassed chuckle, probably due to the fact that she had heard us practically yelling at each other. "Sorry, I don't mean to interrupt. My aunt, she's kind of an insomniac, so… Yeah."

"You weren't interrupting anything," Steve consoled her, shaking his head. "We were just… talking. About, uh…"

"The economy," I finished for him when he stumbled, saying the first thing that popped into my head. According to all the crappy daytime television I had been stuck watching lately, that was what most couples argued about these days. When Steve and Kate both shot me disbelieving looks, I began to ramble, as I so often do. "You know, the decline, the incline, the loops and twirls, it's a freaking roller coaster, am I right?"

There was an awkward silence between the three of us before Kate nodded her head with a bright smile. "Right! Well, I have a load of laundry in the basement, so I'm just gonna go get that now."

"Right, right, of course." Steve took a step away from me so that she could pass between the two of us.

We stood waiting for her to leave, but when she reached the top of the stairs she stopped and turned back to say, "Oh, and by the way, I think you left your stereo on."

The two of us looked to the door, only now hearing the quiet music playing through the relatively thin walls. "Thanks," I told her as she walked down the stairs with a wave thrown over her shoulder.

When Kate was gone, Steve and I exchanged knowing looks. The song playing was It's Been A Long, Long Time by Harry James, a song neither of had listened to in- fittingly- a long time. Which meant neither of us had left it playing. So who had?

Steve pressed his ear to the door for a moment before stepping back and taking a hold of my upper arm, stepping back to whisper in my ear in case we were being listened to. "I'll sneak around back and go in through the window, you stay out here. When you hear my signal, come around and flank them. Got it?"

In the back of my mind I wanted to disagree, feeling like this was exactly what I always did. Waited. Stayed behind. The backup. I wanted to insist that I go in with him, that we face whoever had broken into our home together. As a team.

But I kept that in the back of my mind, nodding my understanding to Steve. He was better with tactics than I was, so it would be better for me to just listen. "Okay," he breathed, taking just one more moment to stare at me before moving to the stairs.

I didn't have any weapons on me, so instead I moved so that my ear was close to the door and I locked my feet in place, waiting in case they tried to run. I couldn't hear any movement over the music, and it made my antsy. Underneath the door I saw the lights flicker on, but they were quickly turned back off. That alone made me want to barge in even more, but I held my ground. Steve knew what he was doing, he could handle himself.

The music was turned up, and I hoped it wasn't to mask the sound of fighting. It seemed unlikely, as Steve hadn't called out for help. Still, it wasn't comforting.

I only snapped out of my concentration on listening for any small sound other than the music when Kate spoke up, having returned without me noticing. "Are you okay?"

I jumped slightly at the noise, whipping around to face her as I came up with a reason for waiting outside our door. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. There was just, um… Steve and I both forgot our keys, so he went to go ask for a spare. I'm just waiting for him to get back."

"With your ear pressed to the door?"

"That?" I chuckled, running a hand down the door. "Yeah, that. I was just listening to the song. It's one of my favorites."

"Okay…" The two of us were left in yet another awkward silence that she broke again by pointing towards her own door. "Well, I was going to start dinner while I was waiting for my clothes to finish."

"You go ahead," I ushered her, waving her off. "I'll just be waiting for Steve. I'm sure he'll be-"

I was cut off by the sound of a gunshot, and all thoughts of my cover story were immediately forgotten as I pushed the door open and rushed into the room, snatching the fully loaded pistol I kept in a drawer in the small table by the front door as I ran into the living room. When I saw Steve dragging Fury behind the divider between the living room and the kitchen, I lowered my gun slightly in confusion. "What the hell happened here?"

Steve looked up at the sound of my voice and dropped his hold on Fury's arm to run over and grab mine, pulling me behind the divider as well. "Stay down," he commanded before standing to grab his shield. Before he could move, however, Fury gripped his arm and pulled him down, whispering something in his ear as he handed him something I couldn't see.

Before I could question what was going on, another voice joined ours in the apartment. "Captain Rogers? Dr. Moore?"

Both Steve and I looked around the side of the wall and saw Kate walking in, a pistol similar to my own held expertly in front of herself. Neither of us had the chance to ask her what she was doing before she explained herself. "I'm Agent 13 of SHIELD Special Service. I'm assigned to protect you."

"Again," I stressed, not sure who to look at as I blurted out the same question. " _What the hell is going on?_ "

"Director Fury personally assigned me as your guardian," Kate repeated, kneeling by his side before producing a radio out of seemingly thin air. "Foxtrot is down, he's unresponsive. I need EMT's."

A flash of silver caught my eye, and when I looked closer I saw that there was a man watching us form the roof across the street. While a man on the other side of Kate's radio asked if she had a visual on the shooter, I tightened my hand around my gun and made a split-second decision. "The roof across the street," I told Steve, picking up his shield and tossing it to him as I made a beeline for the front door.

The manager shouted after me to stop running in the lobby, but he went largely ignored as I only picked up my pace, my arms swinging by my side as I sprinted around the corner of the building towards where I had seen the mystery shooter with the silver arm. He had been on the roof, but with Steve following him it wasn't likely he would stay up there very long.

My guess proved right when I heard a loud clanging of metal, followed by the man with the metal arm jumping from the roof and landing only a few feet in front of me as I skidded to a stop in front of the building. "Hey!" I shouted, causing him to whip around and look at me.

His already dark eyes appeared pitch black due to the harsh black lining surrounding them, and the mask that covered the lower half of his face only added to his mystery. There was no time to wonder who he was or why he wanted Fury dead, however, as he stepped forward and swung a metal fist at me.

I blocked as well as I could by holding my forearm in front of my face, but whatever his arm was made out of packed one hell of a wallop. Though the hit missed my face, he was able to push me back while I momentarily gripped what would surely become a large bruise on my arm. I was forced to ignore the pain when he didn't stop there, swinging his elbow out towards me while his other fist went for my gut.

It was a struggle to even match the assassin's speed and strength, let alone overcome it. I had no idea how long the fight went on the way it did- with him coming at me with fists and feet flying and me simply trying to hold my ground. The tides only turned when he dropped one arm to reach around to his back, trying to go for some unseen weapon I was sure.

Which left him one-handed. I used this to my advantage by snatching his wrist and dragging it diagonally across his torso, forcing him to lean to the side so I could move myself behind him and smack what I saw was a knife out of his other hand before he could use it on me. With his weapon gone and his back to me, I was able to use both of my arms to shove him away from me with as much strength as I could muster, and face-first into the wall of the building he had jumped from.

He didn't stay there very long. I braced myself for the rest of the fight by repositioning myself into a defensive stance and taking a deep breath, but he surprised me. Instead of returning to the fight, he only turned to glare at me for a moment before taking off around the side of the building and disappearing from my sight.

This tactic shocked me enough that I stood frozen for a brief second before pursuing him, but by the time I had rounded the same corner he was nowhere to be seen. Panting from the laborious fight, I turned in a small circle as I searched for him, but it was useless. He was gone.

* * *

I stood outside the operating room with Steve on my right and Maria on my left, the three of us watching through the glass as several doctors hurried to save Fury. A few nurses had asked me if I wanted them to check on the small cut over my eyebrow or the growing mark on my right forearm, but I had turned them down in favor of waiting to see if Fury would make it.

Steve had inspected me from head-to-toe when he saw me after my fight with the assassin, but had held off his questions in favor of getting Fury to the hospital. I knew they would come eventually, but for now I was happy that he had chosen to ask them later.

At one point Natasha had shown up, moving to stand in between me and Maria. I didn't know how she knew what had happened or where we were, but I didn't bother asking. She probably wouldn't have answered, anyway.

"Tell me about the shooter," she asked, breaking the silence that had plagued us all since the operation started.

"He's one tough son of a bitch," I answered with only the slightest tinge of my usual sarcasm, crossing my arms over my chest. "If I didn't know any better, I would have thought it was Steve in a wig with a metal casing over his arm."

Natasha's shoulders tensed at the end of my sentence- only slightly, barely even noticeable, but that was a lot coming from her. "Ballistics?"

Maria answered that question. "Three slugs, no rifling. Completely untraceable."

"Soviet made."

Maria glanced at Natasha, nodding slightly. "Yeah."

The conversation was effectively ended when the doctors in the OR began to scramble as the beeping of the countless machines became louder and faster, with phrases that even I didn't know despite my doctorate being shouted. "He's in v-tach!" "Crash cart coming in." "BP's dropping." "I need a defibrillator!" "Charge to 100. Stand back." "Clear!"

As the doctor shocked Fury once, twice, three times, the only other sound I could hear was Natasha whispering, "Don't do this to me, Nick. Don't do this to me," over and over and over.

After the fifth shock, the doctor stood still. The beeping had become one prolonged, high-pitched hum. When the doctor asked for the time, Steve turned and walked out of the room. The nurses lowered their heads. Natasha sighed, closing her eyes. Maria placed a hand over her mouth as she looked away. I squeezed my arms tighter against my chest, ignoring the pain that shot through my arm as my fingers pressed against the bruise.

"Time of death, 1:03 AM."

...

 **Hey, guys!**

 **So, if you've read my stories before, you know that this is about the time I ask what you expect from this story. As usual, I have a general plan for Jo in this plotline, and throughout all the movies in the MCU, but my main job here is to make all of you happy! To do that, I'd love to know what your thoughts are on where you'd like to see Jo and what you'd like her to accomplish. I'd also like to know your opinions on her relationship with Steve- is it realistic? Would you like to see it progress more quickly? Slower? Let me know in a review or a PM! Many thanks, and I'll see you all in the next chapter.**


	6. Trust Tested

**Trust Tested**

* * *

Only an hour or so after Fury was pronounced dead, Agent Rumlow was insisting that SHIELD needed to interrogate both Steve and I at their headquarters. I was exhausted after all the shit I had gone through that day and wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed at home, but he was persistent in saying that this had to be done tonight.

After Steve took a moment to mutter something to Natasha and stop at the vending machine, we were both taken in the back of the SHIELD standard black SUV to the Triskelion. I had my elbow propped against the bottom of the window on the ride over, my cheek resting in my palm as I fought to keep my eyes open. At one point I felt Steve's hand slip into my free one, but I was too tired to acknowledge the action with anything other than a small squeeze.

When we walked into the Triskelion, we were told that our statements would be taken separately. I was going to argue that there was no need for that, but I wasn't given the chance before it was explained away. "We don't want any details either of you might remember to be influenced by the other's," an agent I had never met before said. "And as far as we understand, you two were apart for the majority of the encounter. We'd like to hear about your experiences separately before we put together the entire situation."

As always with SHIELD, there wasn't much room for argument. Steve and I shared a quick look before we were led down different corridors, him with the unknown agent while I followed Rumlow.

We went into a part of the facility I had only been in once or twice before, a hallway filled with mostly locked doors all leading to differently sized conference rooms. He typed in a numerical code to one on our right, pushing the door open and waving me inside before he followed after me, the door closing behind us with a quiet _click._

The room was one of the smaller I'd seen, being mostly empty with only a wooden table set up in the middle with four seats on either side of it and one on either end. Brock waited for me to choose a seat before moving to sit across the table from me and pull out a recording device, clicking the red record button before setting it in between us.

"First, I'd like to say that I understand how exhausted you are," he started, leaning in the seat so that his elbows rested on the table while he laced his fingers together. "We all are. But you know how SHIELD is. It's all about the bigger picture. So let's just get this over with as quick as possible, all right? The sooner we finish, y'know?"

I nodded my understanding, sinking into the back of the seat as I stared down at the recorder on the table. "Okay. We can start at the beginning, then. When did you first realize that Fury was in your home?"

"Not until after he was shot. Steve and I first knew there was an intruder when we heard music playing from inside the apartment, but neither of us knew who it was. We made a plan to go in through separate entrances to flank the intruder. I was to wait by the front door until Steve gave the signal for me to enter. While waiting for his signal, I heard a gunshot and abandoned the plan, rushing into the living room where I found Steve carrying Fury out of the line of fire."

"And did Captain Rogers tell you what he discussed with Fury?"

I looked up from the recorder to raise an eyebrow at Brock. "No. We were a bit busy watching Fury die on the operating table."

Brock nodded along as I answered his question and took a small pause before he continued. "So you didn't actually see who shot Fury?"

"I didn't say that," I disagreed with a small shake of my head. "After Kate… After _Agent 13_ identified herself, I spotted the assassin on the rooftop across the street. I informed Steve and encouraged him to pursue the man while I did the same from a different route, hoping our original plan of outflanking the target might work… It didn't. I engaged the target after he jumped from the rooftop, but he was able to get away."

"And Captain Rogers, he was also unable to detain the assailant?"

"Obviously," I sighed, running a tired hand down my face. "If he had successfully detained him, we would have him right now."

"Did you see Captain Rogers engage the assailant?"

I stopped with my hand over my mouth, knitting my eyebrows slightly as I lowered my hand to my lap. "Well, no. Like I said, they were on the rooftop while I was on the ground."

Brock nodded as he pushed away from the table and stood from his seat, locking his hands behind his back as he took to pacing a small area behind the chair. "So, to summarize… You didn't see Captain Rogers with Director Fury until after he had been attacked, you don't know what they discussed, and you didn't see Captain Rogers try to stop the assassin."

"I don't understand what you're getting at here."

Brock stepped forward and scooped up the recorder, turning it off before he set it back on the table with his hand still covering it. I sat up a little straighter in my seat at the serious expression on his face. "Dr. Moore, what I'm about to share with you may be difficult to believe. It's also highly sensitive information that cannot be shared with anyone outside of this room- Captain Rogers included."

How tired I was and how much I wanted to go home suddenly didn't matter anymore. I was sitting forward in my seat, my eyebrows knit together and my fingers lacing together on the table. "You want me to keep a secret from Steve?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation in his answer or movements as he returned to the seat across from me, picking the recorder up from the table and fiddling with it for a moment. "I wouldn't normally ask it of you, but under the circumstances… He can't know that we- or you- know about this."

"What could possibly be so bad that _Steve_ can't know?" I scoffed, shaking my head. This whole situation suddenly seemed much more dramatic and secretive, and I didn't like that one bit.

"Captain Rogers _does_ know," Brock corrected me. "You're not listening to me, Dr. Moore. There are things happening here that Captain Rogers hasn't told you about. Things that involve you and people you care about." We stared each other down as he set a phone from his pocket on the table before twisting it to face me and sliding it across the table. I stopped it with my hand, looking away from Brock to press the play button on an otherwise dark screen.

There was only a second's pause before I heard the sound of a door opening, followed by voices that grew louder as I assumed they grew nearer to the microphone. The first one I recognized as Fury, the second as Steve.

" _This is Project Insight. Three next generation helicarriers synced to a network of targeting satellites."_

" _Launched from the Lemurian Star."_

" _Once we get them in the air, they never need to come down. Continuous sub-orbital flight, courtesy of our new repulsor engines."_

" _Stark?"_

" _He had a few suggestions once he got an up-close look at our old turbines."_

"Why am I listening to this?" I asked Brock, resting my chin in the palm of my hand with my elbow on the table. "This is nice and all, but-"

"Just keep listening."

I rolled my eyes at the theatrics, but stopped talking and listened as Fury finished his explanation.

" _These new long-range precision guns can eliminate 1000 hostiles a minute. The satellite can read a terrorist's DNA before he steps outside of his spider hole. We're gonna neutralize a lot of threats before they even happen."_

Now _that_ caught my attention. I lifted my head from my hand to stare down at the blank screen in front of me, leaning in closer as if that would help me hear Steve's reply better. Surely he wasn't okay with hurting people- killing people- before they had done anything wrong. He wouldn't stand for something like that.

" _I thought the punishment usually came after the crime?"_

" _We can't afford to wait that long."_

" _We?"_

" _After New York, I convinced the World Security Council we needed a quantum surge in threat analysis. For once, we're way ahead of the curve."_

There was a pause before Steve replied, and when he did it made me drop against the back of my seat with confusion plain on my face.

" _You want to protect everyone on Earth."_

" _I read the SSR files. 'Greatest Generation'? They did some nasty stuff."_

" _We compromised. We did it so that people could be free. This is freedom."_

" _SHIELD takes the world as it is, not as we'd like it to be… Glad you're finally with the program, Cap."_

The voices stopped when Brock reached across the table and tapped the screen, ending the recording. I leaned heavily against the back of the seat, one hand massaging at my temple as I considered the conversation I had just heard. Steve actually _supported_ that nut-job's plan? This 'Project Insight' that threatened to kill innocent people?

"Director Fury had already set Project Insight into action before his death," Brock informed me. "He already had the names of the first wave of people it would target. Would you like to hear them?"

I shook my head, but he pushed out of his seat and began rattling off names anyway. I could hear the anger in his voice, and I could only assume that he hadn't known anything about the project either.

"Marian Crawford. She's a high school physics teacher. Terrence Reed. He's an optometrist. Michael Ackerman. He's a construction worker. Delia Bristow, gymnast. Mia Williams, barista. James Dalton, actor. Daniel Granger. Emily Oakley. Abigail Lewis. Marshall Simms… Bruce Banner."

My head shot up, my surprised eyes meeting his hard ones as he continued. "Tony Stark. Natasha Romanoff. Joanne Moore." He slid a navy blue folder across the table, pulling back the cover and stabbing his finger at a long list of names. "Every name on here is a person- a mother, a father, a son or daughter. And every one of them is going to die."

I flipped through pages and pages of names, finding the ones that belonged both to strangers and people I loved. On the seventh page I found my own, just as Brock had said. Stacked in between Nancy Montgomery and Henry Morison, written in plain text: Joanne Moore.

Fear gripped at my chest, threatening to spill into my voice as I fought to keep it calm and collected. "He didn't know about this. About Bruce, or Tony, or Nat, or… He couldn't have known."

Brock's voice was quieter, his angry tone having been replaced by one of sympathy. "This is a copy of the same file Fury gave to Captain Rogers."

"No," I immediately argued, shaking my head furiously as I slammed the folder shut and pushed it away from me. "No, he didn't know. Steve may not be the poster boy for perfection that the media makes him out to be, but he isn't…" I huffed with irritation as I stood from my seat, unable to keep my anxious legs still any longer. "He didn't know. He _didn't._ He wouldn't have stood for this! It's a shitty, _shitty_ idea and he would have known that."

"You heard the recording," Brock reminded me.

"Well, it was wrong!"

"Agent Moore-"

"It was _wrong!_ " I shouted, gripping the back of the seat I had vacated so tightly it made my knuckles white and my fingers sore. "He must have not understood. If he actually knew the implications, the consequences, he would never let SHIELD hurt innocent people. He would never let them hurt his friends."

"You can believe whatever you want," Brock interrupted, moving around the table to stand face-to-face with me, his features set into one of determination. "But this is the truth. Project Insight didn't die with Fury. It's still set to launch within the next few days, and thousands of innocent people- including people you know and love- are going to die. Unless you help me stop it."

I thought over the conversation I'd just heard between Fury and Steve, replaying over and over in my mind how Steve had been so willing to go along with this insane plan. The evidence against him was all too damning, but all I could think was that this was _Steve_ we were talking about. And until I heard it from Steve himself, I refused to believe that he would be involved in anything like this.

But if it was true that Steve didn't agree with Project Insight moving forward, then for whatever reason, SHIELD wanted it to look like he did. And that didn't sit well with me.

The way Brock was staring at me as he waited for my answer didn't feel natural either. A quick glance at his hand twitching forward told me all I needed to know about his involvement. If I didn't agree to help him, then I was the enemy. That simply would not do.

"I just have one question," I said carefully, gauging his reaction when I took a slight step closer to him. When he nodded, I pointed toward the folder he had left on the desk. Once his eyes were on the table and no longer on me, I took my chance to move behind him and tighten one arm around his neck, locking my right hand on his left shoulder with his Adam's apple gulping against the crook of my elbow. "Do you honestly think I'm that stupid?"

He might have answered were it not for his dwindling air supply, and the fact that once I brought my left hand up to the back of my neck it only took four seconds for the loss of blood flow to his brain knocked him out cold. I let him slump to the ground once he was out cold before stepping over him to retrieve the folder filled with names and push the conference room door open as quietly as possible. I may have been pissed, but I knew that if Brock had orders to stop me, so would the rest of SHIELD.

I was careful to keep my footsteps silent as I snuck through corridors and around corners, finding my way around the Triskelion while avoiding the ever-vigilant eyes of SHIELD. Still, I had to be quick. I knew they had security cameras covering every inch of property they owned, which meant that it wouldn't be long before somebody noticed me on some monitor somewhere and went who knows how many agents after me.

As things usually turned out for me, I was _this close_ to exiting the lobby before I was stopped by a semi-familiar voice calling out, "Agent Moore!" I froze in place and looked back over my shoulder, only to see four men dressed in full tactical gear with their guns pointed at me, Agent Sitwell standing in front of them with a grin plastered to his face. "Please don't make this difficult. We only want to ask you a few more questions."

A thousand sarcastic answers went through my head, but before I had the chance to rattle off a single one I was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass. I whipped around to face the noise, along with every other SHIELD agent within earshot, and was greeted with the sight of Steve curled into a ball on top of his shield in the main lobby, glass shards littering the floor around him.

When Steve stood, he turned in a circle until finally he was facing my direction. As if him leaping from however high hadn't been signal enough, our brief eye contact told me that it was time to run. That knowledge didn't negate the bullets that could reach me before I even had the glass door opened.

Sitwell wanted to unnecessarily remind me of this fact. "Don't be stupid, Agent Moore. If you turn yourself over now, no harm will come to-"

"Fuck it," I mumbled to myself before snatching the door handle and sprinting into the lobby, the sound of my pounding footsteps drowning out whatever it was Sitwell was shouting behind me. What I didn't notice at the time, but would realize later on, was that there were no shots fired after me.

Steve waited for me to reach his side before grabbing my arm and tugging me behind him as we ran out of the Triskelion and towards the garage where his motorcycle was.

Now, I'm sure we all know that I have shitty timing. Mainly due to the fact that I am nothing if not the world's most impatient person, but also because I simply have a really bad habit of asking the wrong things at the wrong time. Which is why as Steve and I were running for our lives from the people we had worked with and trusted for almost two years, I decided to ask, "What do you know about Project Insight?"

We had reached the motorcycle by this point, and as Steve dug through his jacket pocket for the keys he spared a moment to shoot me a disbelieving glance before producing the keys and shove them into the ignition. "Now is _really_ not the time for questions, Jo."

Legs were thrown over the side, the engine was revved and tires squealed as we raced through the garage doors and towards the gate on the other end of the long bridge leading off SHIELD property. "I don't give a shit what time it is," I practically yelled over the wind whipping around us. "How much did you know about Fury's pet project?"

" _Later,_ Jo!"

" _Now_ , Steve!"

He ignored my insistence that he answer as a quinjet appeared above us, twisting until it faced us and its guns lowered from their sockets. "Stand down," the pilot ordered over the speakers. "I repeat, stand down."

When we ignored their instructions, we were instantly in their line of fire. Steve swerved the bike back and forth to avoid the hailstorm of bullets, reaching back in the meantime to grab one of my arms and remove it from his waist to move it to the left handlebar. "Take the reins," he directed before snatching his shield and throwing it at the quinjet, resulting in one failing engine.

When Steve stood on the seat of the bike, I followed his orders by grabbing the handles and steering the vehicle as he leapt onto the quinjet only a few feet above us. I was too busy trying to avoid the falling debris from the plane to pay much attention to what exactly he was doing, but whatever it was ended with the quinjet plummeting into the surrounding water as Steve landed deftly on the bridge in front of me.

With no more immediate threats, I pulled up next to him and pointed behind myself. He raised his eyebrows in question, but didn't argue when I insisted with a jab of my thumb that he take the backseat. Once he was sitting and had his arms around my waist, I turned back with a stern look.

"The second we're somewhere safe, you're telling me _every detail_ of Project Insight."


	7. Team

**Team**

* * *

It was apparent as soon as Steve and I laid eyes on our apartment that we weren't going to be able to stay there as long as SHIELD was after us. Since they had insisted on taking us to the Triskelion immediately after Fury's death, the sun was just now starting to peek over the horizon and neither of us had slept in at least twenty-four hours. Regardless, this was no time for a nap. I had questions, Steve had answers, and we had one of the most advanced intelligence agencies in the world on our asses.

Steve only asked where we were going once, and when I didn't answer he didn't bother to ask again. I was too busy trying to decide how upset I was with him at the time to answer him.

I drove us to a small park hidden behind a wall of tall trees, parking in one of six spots before tugging the keys out of the motorcycle and tossing them over my shoulder to Steve as I stepped off the bike. It might have been childish of me to act the way I was, but I felt completely justified. I heard him following behind me, but I didn't talk to him. I simply continued to walk until I thought we were somewhere nobody would find or hear us.

Once we were deep in the forest, surrounded by rich greens and browns, I turned on my heel and finally met Steve's confused yet guilty eyes. He instantly tried to start explaining himself, but quickly shut up when I held a hand up with a stern expression.

"You lied to me," I started. It wasn't a question, but a fact. "Call it whatever you want- a half-truth, an omission. I don't care. You knew about Fury's plans, and you didn't tell me, even though I am explicitly involved."

"I didn't know you were involved," he tried to explain, causing me to scoff.

"It doesn't matter whether or not you knew if my name was on the list, Steve! You know that I'm an agent of SHIELD, or at least I was. You know that anything Fury doesn't want me to know is _probably_ something I should know. You know that I have just as much a right as you to know about things that endanger innocent lives. I shouldn't have to be previously involved. You should involve me."

"You can't just expect…" Steve worked his jaw before sighing and shaking his head. "Okay."

"No, don't do that," I scolded. "Tell me. I can't just expect what?"

"I'm not going to argue about this. You're right. Let's just leave it at that."

"I don't want to just leave it at that! Tell me what I can't expect from you." He didn't answer, simply crossing his arms over his chest with a shrug instead, his lips pressed tightly together. "Are you shitting me? You're the one in the wrong here, and I'm getting the silent treatment?"

When he remained silent, I stepped forward and shoved his shoulders. "Don't _do that_! What can't I expect from you? Tell me! Talk to me!"

"About what?" he finally asked, dropping his arms to hold his hands out in confusion. "I told you, I'm not going to fight you on this. We have better things to worry about right now."

I couldn't really argue with that, but I also didn't really care. The more he refused to defend himself the angrier I was. "You told me that you never lie to me," I reminded him, remembering the morning before when we had been ignorantly, blissfully happy in bed. "So that's _twice_ you've lied. Wanna tell me about any other lies, or do I have to wait for rogue SHIELD agents to tell me about them while they're trying to kill me?"

I knew he was upset with me by his tense jaw and clenched fists, but still he refused to argue. "We can fight all you want _later._ Right now, I need to go back to the hospital, and you need to get somewhere safe."

"Why the hell do you have to go back to the hospital?"

He didn't answer.

" _Are you shitting me?_ You're _still_ keeping secrets from me?"

"I'm trying to keep you safe, I'm not-"

"It's a little fucking late for that!" I laughed humorlessly, throwing my hands helplessly in the air. "Have you forgotten that I'm not just an innocent bystander? Did that shit exhibit at the Smithsonian brainwash you? I don't need you to keep me safe. I don't _want_ you to keep me safe… You used to be better than this," I commented, remembering how he had been more willing than anyone to have me join the Commandos back when I first became who I was today.

Maybe he didn't remember that time, though. Not like I did. "What do you mean, I used to be better than this?"

"You used to tell me everything. You didn't keep secrets. You didn't lie. You didn't coddle me, or hide me away. You weren't always so scared that you were going to lose me."

It wasn't until I said it myself that I finally realized why Steve had been treating me like a child lately. And boy, did I feel like an idiot for not realizing it earlier. Especially because I had been doing almost exactly the same thing.

After what we had been through, after everything that we had lost, Steve and I were both overly-protective of what we had left. We couldn't take losing anything or anyone else, and we knew it. I understood how he felt, because it was the same way I felt. Losing him would be the end of me, and no matter how conceited it sounded to admit it, losing me would be the end of Steve.

That knowledge did nothing to end my tirade, however.

"You idiot," I sighed, running my hands down my face before slapping them down against my thighs. "Nothing's going to happen to me that I can't handle! In fact, not telling me how dangerous a situation I'm in only makes it _more_ dangerous. You can't just go around worrying that I'm going to suddenly drop off a cliff, but not warn me when I'm near the edge!"

"I already told you I was wrong! What more do you want from me?"

"I don't… I don't know," I stumbled. "I want to be kept in the loop. I want you to know that I can take care of myself. I want to be more than just- just some _person_ that tags along. I _am_ more than that, I think." But suddenly I wasn't so sure.

"You are," Steve agreed, but the sympathetic- no, pitying- look in his eyes made me eager to disregard everything he was saying. "You are more than that. I know you are, and so does SHIELD. Don't you understand that this is what they want? If we're fighting each other, there's nobody left to fight them."

I hated to admit that he was right, but he was. Of course he was. He usually was. That didn't make me any happier about it, though. And it definitely didn't mean I was finished being angry with him. In the meantime, however. "… Fine."

Without another word, I brushed past him and started the short walk back to the motorcycle. It took him a second to catch up to me, but when he did he easily matched my stride. "Fine?"

"Fine."

"You _say_ fine, but you don't _sound_ fine."

It wasn't until I reached the motorcycle that I remembered I had thrown the keys at him earlier. _Of course you did,_ I scolded myself in my head. _Note to self: stop throwing things when having tantrums._

Steve's assessment of 'fine' continued to hang in the air between us as I weighed my options between letting Steve drive us to wherever he thought best and having to ask him for the keys. The thought occurred to me that one of us could simply walk, but with SHIELD tracking us even I wasn't going to be so petty as to risk one of our lives for the sake of an argument.

Unable to think of a place to take us, I decided on letting Steve drive. With a resigned sigh I pressed my palms against the motorcycle seat, rocking onto my toes and back to my heels. "'Fine', as in I'm still pissed at you, but I'm not pissed enough to let SHIELD get away with… whatever it is they're up to. Which is something we need to figure out, together."

When he started to say something else, I stood back up to my normal height to look him in the eyes and make sure he got the full impact of what I said next. "That doesn't mean you're forgiven. This takes precedence, but we're not anywhere near finished with this conversation. Understood?" I waited for him to nod before continuing, in no way planning anything I was saying. Everything that came out of my mouth was completely improvised, but I refused to take any of it back.

"From now on, you and I are equals. You don't hide things from me, you don't try to protect me, nothing. I am not your backup. I am not an innocent bystander. We're a team."

He nodded again after realizing that I had finished, and I took that opportunity to climb onto the bike before patting the seat in front of me. "C'mon then. Cap. We've got a highly-intelligent, highly-trained, highly-deadly organization to run-from-slash-take-down." Steve placed one hand on the handlebar, but remained standing. When he didn't say or do anything else, I raised an eyebrow and patted the seat again. Still, he didn't move. "Steve?"

"They told you about Project Insight."

"Yeah, we went over that. Am I missing something?"

"You said you were in danger," he continued without answering me. I could see the wheels turning in his head as he pieced some puzzle together, though what puzzle he was solving I didn't know until he said it out loud. "Project Insight is about taking criminals out before they can commit the crime… How would that put you in danger?"

Although I had been telling myself since Brock first accused Steve of knowing everything that it was a lie, it was relieving to hear for myself that he really had no idea. It also told me that for all the faults between us he still had faith in me to always do the right thing, even if the evidence was stacked against me.

"You didn't know," I chuckled to myself. "Rumlow showed me the names for the first wave of attacks. Fury never showed you that, though." He shook his head, and the tiniest fraction of tension left my heavy shoulders. Though, it was immediately replaced by the reminder of just who was on that list that I had seen.

No matter how angry I was, I didn't want to tell him just what was at stake if we failed. I was just going to ignore how hypocritical that was of me, but Steve wasn't an idiot. It didn't take him very long after that to set the last piece in place, and his expression shifted from one of confusion to one of anger.

Steve didn't speak again as he climbed onto the motorcycle and switched the ignition on in record time before speeding out of the parking lot, tires squealing as we went. I didn't bother asking where we were going, partly because I didn't want to talk to him right then at all, but also because I doubted he would hear me over the whipping wind.

I didn't need to ask anyway. It was a short ride to our destination, though that made it no less confusing when Steve pulled into the parking spot closest to the front doors of the hospital we had been in the night before. Before I could walk towards the doors, Steve stopped me with a gentle hand on my arm.

When I turned back to him, he grabbed the hood of my jacket. "I'm going to fix this," he promised, pulling the hood over my head. " _We're_ going to fix this… SHIELD isn't going to hurt anyone."

He didn't say anything else as he hid his own face and walked inside the hospital, and neither did I. Our mission was clear without words. Stop SHIELD. Stop Project Insight. Save the innocent men, women, and children who would suffer if we failed. Save our friends who had become targets despite the fact that they had risked everything to save the world only two years prior. In short, do what we had to.

Now all that was left was figuring out exactly how we were going to do that.


	8. Ammunition

**Ammunition**

* * *

Steve and I walked through the hospital with our hands shoved into our pockets, stepping aside for anyone that passed us with our eyes fixed firmly on the floor and our hoods shielding our faces. We must have looked more than suspicious, but luckily nobody tried to stop us from wandering the halls.

I had no idea where we were headed, so I simply followed behind Steve and kept an eye out for anyone that might be giving us more attention than we could afford. When he finally stopped on the same floor we had been on only hours ago, I looked up to see that he was staring at a vending machine with confusion plain on his face.

"What, did we come all this way for a freaking pack of gum?" I asked incredulously, but my sarcastic question did nothing to shake him from his stupor.

When a familiar face appeared in the glass of the machine, however, his expression quickly melted into one of rage as he pivoted on his heel and grasped Natasha's arm, dragging her into a (thankfully) empty room. I hurried in after him and closed the door, glancing out the window to make sure we hadn't been seen before shutting the blinds. As the room was bathed in darkness, I turned to see Steve shoving Natasha against the wall with enough force to turn his knuckles white and cause her to wince.

"Where is it?" he demanded in a harsh whisper.

"Safe," she deflected, eyebrows furrowed as she examined his face.

"Do better."

"Where did you get it?"

"Why would I tell you?"

I was lost to say the least at the turn this conversation had taken, but after Steve's last question Natasha paused before turning to me. It didn't matter how blank I thought my face was, she was always able to tell exactly what was on my mind. "You don't know," she said, the crease between her brows only growing deeper as she turned back to Steve. "You've been keeping secrets from everybody, haven't you? I thought that was my job."

"I'm not playing games, Romanoff," Steve threatened.

Before the situation could escalate any further, I intervened by pulling Steve away from Natasha and shooting hard looks at the both of them. " _Nobody_ is playing games," I corrected, looking back and forth at the two. "Not anymore. From now on, there are no more lies, no more half-truths, no more omissions. You-" I pointed to Steve "-are going to get your head on straight and stop losing your shit every time something doesn't go your way. And you-" I pointed to Natasha "-are going to explain exactly what I've missed. And then you are going to help us fight whoever's fool enough to take us on."

There was a contemplative silence before Steve took a step back with a firm nod. I looked to Natasha then, who smirked in my direction. "I like you a lot better when you take charge," she complimented. "It's about time you learn that shit happens, and move on... I know who killed Fury."

* * *

The Winter Soldier. Even the name sounded menacing, not to mention the way Natasha had described him. Describing her encounter with him five years ago was one of the very few times I could remember seeing actual fear flash in her eyes.

After showing us that she had stolen the USB Fury had given to Steve, she told us that we were going to have to find a computer that couldn't be traced back to us if we wanted to see what was on it.

That was how we ended up at the mall in clothing that didn't belong to us, weaving our way through the unsuspecting crowd. I found that the cushion inside of the shoes I was wearing added a happy bounce to my step, even if I was anything but happy in that moment.

Steve, however, couldn't stand the damn things.

"First rule of going on the run," Natasha chided, subtly pulling Steve back by his elbow. "Don't run. Walk."

"If I run in these shoes, they're gonna fall off."

I rolled my eyes at his inability to adjust as we neared a store with a white apple hanging above their entrance. "An apple seems an odd choice for a logo," I commented as we walked under the hanging fruit. "Why not just a computer? Or a keyboard, or a circuit board? Anything but fruit."

"The logo doesn't matter," Natasha sighed. "We just need a computer with a USB drive so we can find out what's on this thing and get the hell out of here. Like that one." She suddenly turned to her right, and I had to backtrack slightly as she flipped the laptop open. "The drive has a Level Six homing program, so as soon as we boot it up SHIELD will know exactly where we are."

When I saw Steve glancing nervously around the store, I wondered how exactly he had ever been able to carry out covert operations. Setting aside my current irritation with him for the sake of the mission, I wrapped my hand around his elbow. He looked down at me with confusion, to which I simply shrugged in response. He didn't say anything, but I noticed that his attention had returned to the laptop Natasha was using as he asked, "How much time will we have?"

"About nine minutes from… now."

Whatever Natasha had done, it seemed to work. As soon as she plugged in the USB a window popped up titled LEMURIAN STAR. I hadn't been on the mission with them, but I knew form Steve's recounting that this had been the mission where Natasha had left him in favor of finding onboard intelligence on Fury's orders.

"Fury was right about the ship," Natasha said as she tried to get inside the folders that denied her access. "Somebody's trying to hide something. This drive is protected by some sort of AI. It keeps re-writing itself to counter my commands."

"Can you override it?"

"The person who developed this is slightly smarter than me… _Slightly._ "

Slightly smarter than Natasha? That gave me an idea. "May I?" I asked rhetorically, nudging her to the side with my hip as I pulled my phone out of my pocket. The Stark Industries logo shimmered on the back as I placed it next to the laptop, opening the tracer app Tony had told me was permanently installed into the phone.

" _Just in case," he shrugged, winking when I rolled my eyes._

Within seconds the phone had connected to the laptop and I watched as all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place without me having to lift a finger. "When did Stark give you a cell phone?" Natasha asked, staring down at the device.

Before I had the chance to answer, we were joined by a man with blond hair even longer than mine and a thick beard that didn't do much to hide his enthusiastic smile. His nametag read 'Hello! I am ERIN'. "Can I help you guys with anything?"

"Actually-"

"Yes, you can!" I turned to look at Natasha with confusion as she interrupted me. She was smiling brightly at the employee as she laid a hand on his arm. "I'm so glad you came over. My sister is getting married, and so Grant and I-" she motioned between herself and Steve "-thought we would bring her here to look for her wedding present."

The employee- Erin- blushed at the contact before looking between the two of us. "Sisters, huh? You don't look very much alike."

"She was adopted," I supplied with a shrug, causing him to nod with understanding.

"Actually," Natasha drawled, flashing me a smile and batting her eyelashes sweetly when I resisted the urge to cringe as she called me, " _Annie._ Would you mind walking with Erin for a moment?" Leaning closer to Erin, she whispered, "We're looking for their honeymoon spot and want it to stay a surprise for her."

It had been a while since the last time I had slipped into a character- especially since I hadn't actually gone on a mission for SHIELD in months- but I had always been fantastic at it. Slipping into the persona of the happy bride-to-be, I steered Erin away from Steve and Natasha with one hand waving animatedly and the other on his shoulder. "So, Erin, how long have you worked with Apple?"

"Oh, _years._ Going on six now," he chuckled breathily. "I know- I'm an old man."

A smirk settled on my lips as I rolled my eyes. "Doll, you are anything but… However, I do have a question for you." Leaning in conspiratorially, as if I was about to discuss something top-secret, I whispered, "Would you happen to know how Apple got its name? An Apple doesn't make any sense for a computer store, does it?"

His eyes lit up at the chance to share his knowledge – a look I knew all too well – as he mimicked my movements and tone. "It's quite the story, actually. See, the generally accepted answer is that Jobs chose the name because he was on one of his health kicks at the time and thought that the name 'apple' was a fun, memorable and non-intimidating name – something that mattered a whole lot for an up-and-coming technological company. But if you dig just a little deeper, there are some theories about the original computer's price being $666.66 and the forbidden fruit at the Garden of Eden, leading-"

"Thanks a ton!" Natasha's cheery voice bellowed over Erin's as she grasped my elbow and started to drag me backwards. "You were _super_ helpful."

"But he was just about to tell me-"

I didn't have time to finish my protest before Natasha had whirled me in a half circle facing the exit, glancing around as nonchalantly as possible. "Google it. SHIELD won't wait for you to satiate your curiosity before taking you in."

"Of course not, selfish bastards."

While I was admittedly bummed about not hearing the rest of the story, Natasha hadn't been exaggerating when she put a restriction on our mall time. As the three of us worked our way through the flowing crowds, I spotted none other than Rumlow himself leaning over the glass banister on the floor above us – sporting a very nasty bruise on the side of his neck, might I add.

"Not that I'm trying to rush us out the door or anything," I mumbled to avoid any passerby's/potential undercover agents to my words, "but we've got a very red-faced Rumlow on our six, and I don't think he wants to thank me for choking him out yesterday."

A quiet chuckle made me glance up at Steve, who merely shrugged in return. "What? I'm not allowed to enjoy him getting a little payback?"

I turned my eyes to a sighing Natasha as she subtly steered us to the right and out of the way of a woman speaking into her jacket sleeve – which was _not_ so subtle. You'd think SHIELD agents would be better at disguising themselves.

"We have to blend in," Natasha said while scanning for the quickest exit. "Normally I would suggest splitting up, as larger crowds tend to draw attention, but I somehow doubt you two know this area well enough to find a rendezvous spot."

"Parking Lot C."

Natasha and Steve both glanced down at me in confusion, so after making sure we weren't currently being watched I pulled them both to the side and explained myself. "Clint dragged me here a few times, trying to convince me that an essential part of being a modern woman… That's not the point right now. The point is that we parked in Lot D, so meeting at the back row of Lot C would give us plenty of time to separate and find each other again, without leading any potential unwanted friends straight to our car."

Natasha shrugged, nodding her head as she considered it. "It definitely isn't the worst plan I've ever heard. Definitely not the _best_ , but considering what we have to work with…"

"Gee, thanks, Nat. Your confidence is really refreshing."

"And what if one of us _is_ caught?" Steve interjected.

The answer was one I was sure none of us wanted to consider, but luckily it was also one that didn't have to be said out loud.

"Okay," Natasha agreed. "I'll take the upstairs exit. You two go through the back door behind the food court. Back row, Lot C."

I nodded my confirmation, looking up to Steve when I saw Natasha do the same. The look on his face made it clear that he didn't like the idea of separating, which came as no surprise. Never before had the suggestion come without apprehension on his part, but it had always (ultimately) worked out for the best.

With that in mind, I slipped my hand into his and began to lead him towards the food court. "Lot C," I repeated to Natasha with a small grin. "See you there, Widow."

Within seconds she had lifted her hood and melted into the crowd, and I was half-dragging Steve to our own exit. "I'm gonna need you to stop dragging ass," I hissed up at him. "My arms may look amazing, but I'm pretty sure I'd still struggle to carry you unnoticed."

"I don't like this plan," was all he said in reply, though he did pick up the pace.

"Too damn bad. This is what we're working with right now, so you're just going to have to deal with it. Think of this as payback for all the times I've had to go along with your shitty plans just because I couldn't think of anything better."

He almost pulled a complete stop at that, and I immediately regretted my words. Not because I hadn't meant them, but because even despite my personal rule of "there is no such thing as a wrong time and place", this was _definitely_ the wrong time and place for this conversation to happen – and I was going to tell him as much if he didn't start moving his damn feet.

"My plans aren't shitty," he muttered grumpily.

"There will be plenty of time for pouting when our necks aren't on the chopping block. For now, _move._ "

It didn't do much for his sour expression, but at least his speed finally matched mine- and that was all I really cared about. Of course, I had no idea that every word out of my mouth was being stored in the back of Steve's head as ammunition for an argument I didn't know was coming yet.

* * *

 **Oooh, ominous! Although, let's be honest. We all know that Steve and Jo are going to have to lay all their feelings out on the table sooner or later - but how soon will it be exactly? Perhaps at a very inconvenient, inopportune time due to their terrible, _terrible_ timing? Most likely.**

 **We're about to hit the halfway point in the movie, but this story will not end there. As with First Avengers, there will be a couple chapters after the movie written in oneshot format to close out the story more effectively. So yay for that!**

 **As always! Leave a review/PM letting me know what you thought of the chapter and what you'd like to see in the future.**


	9. Admission

**Admission**

* * *

Getting to the parking lot proved to be the easier part of our escape plan. As Steve and I walked towards the back of Lot C, we spotted Natasha subtly backing away with her hand over her eyes as if she was just another woman who couldn't remember where she had parked. When she saw us, however, she pointed the hand over her eyes into a finger directing us away from where we had originally planned to go – to our car.

We silently shifted directions, keeping our questions to ourselves until we crossed her path in Lot B behind a dark blue truck. "Somebody was checking out the car we came in," she explained before we could ask. "And I'd bet anything it wasn't just a curious passerby. We're gonna need a new ride."

"I can handle that," Steve offered, sizing up the truck we used as cover. "Get in."

It wasn't until we were on the road and driving towards the place Natasha had pinpointed as our next clue that the elephant in the room – car, whatever – was addressed.

Natasha had propped her feet up on the dash – she had smirked at me after calling shotgun in the parking lot, forcing me to sit in the backseat with an indignant huff – and was currently studying Steve as he drove. "Where did Captain America learn how to steal a car?"

"Nazi Germany. And we're borrowing, so take your feet off the dash."

I could only imagine the roll of her eyes as she lowered her feet before glancing back at me. "Comfortable?"

"Oh, yeah," I nodded with fake enthusiasm. "I love this rear view. Absolutely extraordinary. I should set up real estate back here – make a killing."

"If you wanted to sit up front, you should have called shotgun. Or did they not have that in the Stone Age?"

"Ha ha," Steve and I mock-laughed at the same time. When we realized what we had done there was a moment of eye contact made in the rearview mirror before we both looked away, him returning his eyes to the road while I sunk lower in my seat and pulled my crossed arms tighter across my chest.

Natasha observed the display with a raised brow, glancing between us. It was always near impossible to tell what was really going on in her head, but whatever it was I knew I wasn't going to like it. "Lover's quarrel?" she guessed. "Can't say I'm really surprised. You two don't seem the type to get along very easily."

I saw Steve's grip tighten around the wheel, but I remained passive. Even if I didn't necessarily think that it was really any of her business, I also didn't disagree with what she had said. The more time Steve and I spent with each other, the more that time seemed to be spent arguing lately. I had no idea what had gone so wrong with us – but that wasn't going to stop Natasha from guessing.

"Is it because he lied about Project Insight?" Her eyes swept over us as she continued, watching for any signs that she was on the right track. "No, it's further back than that – although that certainly didn't help the situation. Have you not been spending enough time together? … Maybe too much time?"

"Enough," I interrupted, causing Natasha's eyes to finally settle on me. "We don't need a therapy session right now. What we need is to get where we're going in one piece, and that isn't going to happen if you don't shut the hell up."

If she was surprised by my outburst, she didn't show it. Not that I had expected her to. All I wanted was for her to stop talking. That didn't happen either, unfortunately. "Avoiding the problem doesn't make it go away, y'know."

"Out of every friend I've ever had that's tried to fix me, you certainly seem the least qualified."

"Why don't we play the quiet game, hmm?" Steve suggested with a nervous undertone that was only thinly veiled by his lame cheer, but he was no longer a factor in this argument as far as Natasha and I were concerned. We were both stubborn to a fault, and were both unwilling to be the first to back down in this question-turned-therapy-session.

"I never claimed I _was_ qualified, and I'm definitely not trying to fix you. I'm only stating the facts as I see them, since neither of you seems to be willing to do it for yourselves."

"Oh, I'm perfectly willing to accept facts – just not from somebody who knows nothing about them."

"Classic denial. Maybe if you were more open about – "

"I _know_ you're not going to tell me to be more open about _anything._ You telling anybody that they should be more open is the equivalent of Tony telling somebody they're too eccentric, or Bruce telling somebody they're too uptight."

"Hey, different methods for different personalities. I would think you would know a little something about that, considering you seem to be a completely different person around different people. Not that I'm judging – it's a great defense mechanism to hide what you're actually thinking. What I _am_ curious about is who exactly you're protecting yourself from."

" _That's enough._ " Steve's now forceful tone abruptly ended the confrontation, punctuated by his palm thudding against the steering wheel. "We have enough enemies without turning on each other. You can finish this conversation after we've dealt with the fact that the people we thought we trusted trying to kill us."

Thick silence followed Steve's commands, and despite my earlier objections, I was glad. Natasha's final statement had knocked the fight out of me, leaving me sulking in the backseat with all the thoughts I had blocked out form days past creeping back. Without an immediate threat, I had no distraction from the fact that I had effectively secluded myself from the world – so much so that it barely remembered my existence.

All hypocrisy aside, Natasha was right – even if I would rather die than ever admit it aloud – and I couldn't lie to myself about it any longer.

Turning my eyes to Steve's reflection in the rearview mirror, I allowed my buzzing thoughts to consume the forefront of my mind for the rest of our drive.

* * *

I knew exactly where we were going the second Steve turned right onto a concealed dirt road hidden behind a barrier of tall trees. I sat straighter in my seat as we crawled to a stop in front of the chain-link fence, my fingers already reaching for the handle that would allow me to once again set foot on the forest path leading, nostalgia twisting in my gut with every step closer.

I heard Steve and Natasha discussing files and coordinates behind me as they climbed out of the truck, but their words blurred together as I read the withered sign – more from memory, thanks to the print having faded near the point of illegibility.

 **CAMP LEHIGH**

 **U.S. ARMY RESTRICTED AREA**

 **USE OF DEADLY FORCE IS AUTHORIZED**

 _"Joanne."_

 _"Oh, please, Colonel. How many time must I tell you? My friends call me Jo. You may call me Dr. Moore."_

I took a small step back from the gate at the memory of Phillips – his smug grin giving away his humor despite the way he shook his head when I teased him. "You didn't tell me this is where the coordinates led," I called to Natasha, mostly because I wanted a distraction from any more creeping memories.

"My bad." She inspected the gate for a moment before slipping her fingers through the links and hoisting herself up, flashing me an innocent smile before continuing her climb up. "Next time we're being chased by rogue agents, I'll be sure to stop give you the rundown. It's not as if they would be so rude as to try and capture us mid-conversation or anything."

"Why are you always so obnoxiously right?" I grumbled beneath my breath before joining her in hopping the fence, Steve following closely behind us.

Even though it had grown dark outside, it wasn't difficult to tell old buildings from ones that had been built after Steve and I were gone as we passed them. Natasha walked ahead of us, holding my phone that she still hadn't returned in front of her – "You're the one who decided we should use your phone to find the coordinates. So unless you know where we're going, I'm going to hold onto it until it takes us where we need to go." – while Steve and I both paused to glance at a bare flag pole, similar thoughts playing in our minds.

 _"So, the little one," Peggy turned to me, a questioning look clear in her eyes. "Yours or Erskine's?"_

 _She knew me so well. "Both, really. He's a lot more than meets the eye, I can promise you that."_

 _"Oh?"_

 _"He may not look like much, but he's got a better heart than the rest of the guys here combined. He's brave, and passionate. I couldn't think of a better choice for the project."_

 _Peggy chuckled as the boys came into view behind us. "Well, hopefully the serum does what Erskine says it will. The boy can have all the heart, bravery and passion he wants, but it won't do him any favors if the wind carries him off before he gets the chance to take anyone down."_

 _"What did I say, Peggy?" I chuckled after Steve climbed next to me in the Jeep, folded flag in hand. "This one's the man for the job." I smacked the top of Steve's helmet as a small blush crept onto his cheeks and we pulled forward, leaving the dumbstruck soldiers behind us to finish the second half of their run._

"You know, I thought you were going to give me a concussion when you slapped my helmet."

Steve's words shook the memory from my mind, my eyes refocusing on his figure standing to my left as I chuckled. "Please, I barely tapped you."

"I weighed 95 pounds," he started, counting on his fingers, "and you spent way too much time with Peggy if you considered that a tap. I'm pretty sure I sustained permanent brain damage."

"Well that explains why you're so slow, at least."

He only had the time to raise an indignant eyebrow at me before Natasha's words interrupted our reminiscing, both of us turning to face her as she dropped my phone against her leg with a sigh. "This is a dead end. Zero heat signatures, zero waves – not even radio. Whoever wrote the file must have used a router to throw people off."

I caught my phone when she tossed it to me, checking it for any damage before looking back up to see that Steve had started walking again, Natasha and I following quickly behind him. "What's up?"

"Army regulations prevent storing munitions within 500 yards of the barracks. This building's in the wrong place."

Breaking the lock on the door was easy with Steve's shield, which allowed us to descend the darkened staircase into the building that hadn't been here when we had. The three of us were silent when we reached the bottom, Steve flipping a switch that buzzed for a moment before overhead lights began to flicker on.

Desks and chairs were semi-organized throughout the room with a clear path down the middle, leading directly to the faint emblem painted on the wall. "This is SHIELD," Natasha said, her voice echoing slightly in the mostly empty room. "At least where it started."

This was a different building, built however long after I was gone, but still… I felt as if I belonged. While Steve and Natasha looked around, I allowed my fingers to trail over the tops of the cool metal desks I passed by, my eyes fluttering over abandoned computers and empty files. Dust mites be damned, this place felt like _home._

I felt a pair of eyes following me as I walked to a secluded corner desk and pulled myself up to sit on top of it, my palms leaving prints in the dust. When I looked up from the floor, a familiarly grim looking face stood in front of me.

" _We finally caught a break - our navigators caught a lead on Zola. He's going to be on a train heading out of Canavara in a few hours, and we'll be right on his heels. It's a solid lead."_

" _That's great," I congratulated, smiling brightly – though my cheer was short-lived thanks to the frown on his face. " … I'm coming, right?"_

" _Not this time, Blondie."_

" _Oh, come on!"_

I chuckled as Bucky sighed, attempting to reason with me. He had been a frequent victim of my tantrums, making it easy for him to recognize the beginning of one. It was funny, really. Howard had grown up with me and Peggy had known me for years, but they had still insisted on arguing with me for hours on end before giving in to my demands.

Not Bucky. It had taken him a meager two weeks before knowing how to calm me down. He had also known how to convince me to do what was best, even if he'd only had the chance to use that set of skills against me a few times before…

" _Come on, baby doll. Take my hand… NO!"_

I hadn't realized how tight my grip on the edge of the desk had grown until a hand covered my own, gently prying my white knuckles from the metal. When I looked up this time it wasn't Bucky that stood in front of me.

Steve set my hand atop my thigh before moving on to the next one, uncurling my fingers and placing my hand next to the other. I watched his face as he did so – the natural glint of caring that sparked in his eyes as he took care of me. No matter how hurt or angry he made me, I could never deny that he cared for me.

" _Besides, you still haven't told Steve about our little training sessions!"_

Our eyes met when Steve looked up from my hands. We had been in a similar position that day… I pulled my legs up until they crossed with my feet tucked lazily underneath my calves. When he raised an eyebrow in question, I patted the seat next to me.

 _Letting out a large puff of air that made my bangs ruffle a bit, I hopped up to sit on one of the metal tables in the makeshift lab I had found Steve in and patted the spot next to me, signaling him to join me. After he did, I narrowed my eyes at the wall for a moment, trying to decide the best way to go about this. "Well, you already know that I was sick." I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye, and took that as the okay to continue. "Well, I'm not sick anymore. I'm actually better than ever before."_

"Sometimes I regret ever recreating the serum."

* * *

 **Cliffhanger! Next chapter we'll finally see Steve and Jo talk to each other, with Natasha very tactfully slipping out of the room to give them just a tad bit of privacy. She and Jo may not get along very well, but she isn't a complete bitch.**

 **The next chapter should be up within a few days, so look out for that! A very memorable Swiss/German scientist will finally be making his appearance.**


	10. Here Now

**Here Now**

* * *

My vision had begun to blur from keeping my eyes open for so long, Steve's unreadable stare having held mine for the past several minutes. I had been too afraid to blink after my confession, knowing that even the slightest movement would break Steve from his reverie and send him on a tirade. The sting had become unbearable, however, so with a sigh I finally turned away from him and back to the empty wall in front of us. It was quiet for only a moment longer before I heard his deep breath.

"Talk to me."

I closed my eyes with a groan. Thanks to our little staring contest, they had been left stinging from lack of moisture, causing them to produce their own in the form of tears that pooled along the rims. I refused to let them slip over my cheeks, hating the weak feeling they left me with – hating that this was simply another thing I had absolutely no control over.

The tears remained in place as long as my eyes were closed, so that's how I left them as I sucked in a long breath through my nose. My voice was unintentionally quiet, though the words remained firm. "Before I met Erskine, my life was pretty damn near perfect. I lived in a big, beautiful house. I had servants that took care of everything from cleaning up after me to arranging my daily schedule. I had all the money in the world at my disposal, which left all the resources I could ever need to invent with at my fingertips. I had better friends than I thought I deserved. I was _happy._

"And then that German idiot with the stupid mustache and obscured world views had to come around and fuck everything up. When the war started, Howard and I knew we had to do something. Not really because we were good people, but because we thought it would be _interesting_ – the only reason we ever did anything. So we helped found the SSR. That was when I met Erskine, and things slowly started going downhill.

"It only took three months to get approved for animal testing, but that was where we would be stuck for the next two years. No matter how many tweaks we made, nothing survived the serum. At first the rats would simply die from some kind of toxins. Then they started to mutate, and become rabid. We had to put those down. It wasn't particularly nasty until the last batch. It seemed to be going perfectly – they were in obvious pain, but by then we were willing to pay that price if only it meant the serum worked. It didn't."

I readjusted the position I was sitting in, dropping my feet to dangle over the edge of the desk as I straightened my back out with an audible _pop._ I hadn't sat down with the intention of story-telling, but now that I had started I knew I wouldn't stop until everything was out in the open. Steve had changed positions too, turning to face me with one leg propped against the desk – his knee dangerously close to pressing into my hip – with the other foot planted on the ground. He was silent as he waited for me to continue my story, his features set in an emotionless mask.

"Howard was the one to figure out the problem. They were mutating too quickly – so quickly that their bodies couldn't handle it. They were generating new muscle faster than the old could be replaced. The solution seemed blatantly simple, though actually developing it would prove to be much more difficult – the Vita-Rays. If we could somehow speed up the body's process of regeneration with natural ingredients that wouldn't interfere with the serum itself… All our problems would be solved. So, of course, we started developing the technology right away.

"We spent the next fourteen months working on it, Howard and I. We didn't eat, didn't sleep – all that mattered was the science. We were in our element. But somewhere along the way…" I waved a hand over my body with a sad smile, chuckling humorlessly. "The radiation we had been working with decided that it liked me just a little too much to be left in the lab. The symptoms came slowly, at first.

"Little purple bruises on my arms and chest that hadn't been there before, that I didn't remember ever getting. A dry throat that couldn't be solved with all the water in the world. Hair getting stuck between my fingers when I ran them over my head. Forgetting why I had walked into a room, or where I had placed something that was still in my hands. I thought that I was just stressed – that going days at a time with little to no sleep were finally taking their toll. Obviously, I was wrong.

"I only realized what was happening a few weeks before you came. Deciding to keep my impending death a secret was a difficult decision. I couldn't remember a single time before that I had ever lied to Howard, even about a little thing. But when he asked me what was wrong, concern in his eyes and voice… I couldn't bring myself to hurt him.

"So I lied. For two years, I lied to everybody while I got worse. Erskine eventually figured it out, but by then it was too late, so I made him promise to keep it to himself. I convinced him that there was nothing he could do, that everything we had worked for up to that point was more important than some measly nausea and fainting spells. He wasn't happy, but he obliged. He started lying for me.

"After that, well… You know most of the story after that. Erskine was murdered. I took years of hard work and tried to recreate it within a matter of months. It wouldn't work as well, but it would be enough for the time being. Ever since I woke up, though…"

I trailed off towards the end of my speech, the memories I had dredged up from the dusty corners of my mind replaying themselves on repeat. I realized that Natasha must have left the room at some point as she hadn't yet interrupted us, and for that I silently thanked her. It wasn't as if my past was a secret or that I wanted to keep it from her, but that story had been meant for Steve and nobody else.

Steve had remained still and silent throughout the entirety of it. His eyes rested on me now, though I kept mine glued to my feet swaying slightly above the ground. The way I was seated felt childish, with my feet kicking back and forth, but I made no attempts to change it.

For a while, I wasn't sure how Steve would respond – if at all – but when he did, I hadn't expected his voice to sound so _angry._ "What? You wish that you hadn't saved yourself?"

His voice had come out as a harsh whisper, which only seemed to leave a stronger impact than if he had yelled. I finally looked up at his words, seeing the first bit of emotion he had allowed himself to show since we sat down. _I had hurt him._ Immediately I wanted to retract everything I had said, to laugh it off and tell him that I was simply being dramatic.

But I didn't.

"No," I tried to explain. "I don't wish that. I just mean that… Everything used to be so much easier. And with everything that's happened to us over the last two years – all the pain and bloodshed that's consumed the world – sometimes I just wish that I hadn't ever left the time that I belonged in because, if we're being honest, I don't belong here, Steve. I thought that I could handle being a spy and a soldier, all the killing and the lies, but I _can't._ "

"Yes, you can."

"Steve – "

Steve slid off the table to stand in front of me, pressing his hands next to mine on the table as he stared me down. His hard gaze held no compassion, no understanding. This was a look I only ever saw on Steve before he went into battle, and he wore it now as his eyes held mine.

" _Yes,_ you _can._ You have worked too hard, and too long to give up on yourself now, Jo, so I'm not going to sit here any longer and let you talk down to yourself. You recreated that serum because you knew you had something to live for – something to fight for. It is not your fault that you were thrown into a war you were never trained for, and you can only be commended for how you've handled the outcome. Any lesser man or woman would have given up a long time ago, but not you. You have always fought, and you have always fought for good.

"We're here now, and there's nothing either of us can do about that. I know how much you miss everything you had. I do too. But _we're here now._ And despite all the odds, we're here _together_. We're fighting _together_. And I don't know about you, but there's nobody else I would rather be fighting with than you.

"It's okay to miss what you had. It is _not_ okay to give up on what you have, and what you have is a new home, new resources, new friends. And you have me. I'm not giving up, Jo. I'm not going to let you give up, either. So are you going to get off this desk and help me take down Hydra for good, or are you going to keep wishing you could change things you have no control over anymore?"

It certainly wasn't the typical pick-me-up speech I was used to from Steve, but somehow his cold words and unforgiving glare seemed to be exactly what I needed. I didn't need to be coddled. I needed facts. And the facts were that I was here, and I was giving up. Not anymore.

"You're right," I admitted. "I've come too far to give up now. But that goes both ways, Rogers." His eyebrows twitched in confusion while my arms crossed over my chest. "You may not have given up on yourself, and you can say that you're not giving up on me, but we both know that you've been headed down that path."

"I'm not – "

"I will always want you to protect me," I interrupted, not allowing him to speak before I finished. "That's what we do – protect each other. But that doesn't include keeping me out of the fight. I didn't take a seventy-year-nap just to wake up and be put under house arrest. As long as I'm fighting, I'm going to be fighting next to you. I don't do well on the sidelines, so don't try to keep me there."

He nodded understandingly. "Deal. For as long as you're willing to fight, it'll be by my side."

"And no more lies," I tacked on with a poke to his chest. "We both know I don't react well to being kept out of the loop. If you want me to trust you, you have to be honest. I don't ask for much, Steve, but that is a deal-breaker. If you can't trust me enough to fill me in on what's happening, then how am I supposed to trust you in return?"

Steve's lips twitched into a frown, though whether it was from guilt or me forbidding him from lying in the future I couldn't be quite sure. Still, he agreed. "That's fair. No more secrets, from either of us."

I slowly pushed myself off the desk, standing chest to chest with Steve as he looked down at me as a small but sincere smile settled on my lips. "Then by all means. Lead the way, Cap."

My smile reflected onto his face as he nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

He turned to step away, but was stopped by my hand on his wrist. When he turned back, I raised an eyebrow at him. "The next time you get that close to me, there better be some kissing involved. Otherwise I might just have to hurt you."

"You always did know how to ruin a perfectly good dramatic moment."

My grin twisted up into a smirk as I shrugged, releasing his arm to join his side as we walked in the direction I assumed Natasha had disappeared to. "It's a talent."

* * *

 **I know it was a little shorter than usual, and we didn't get to see Zola as promised, but this seemed like a good place to end the chapter. We'll get around to him in the next one, where secrets will be revealed and – as always – more drama will ensue. How could it not? This is** _ **Marvel**_ **we're talking about.**

 **I hope you enjoyed seeing a bit more into Steve and Jo's past and perspectives. Reviews are appreciated, and I will try to update sooner – but no promises, unfortunately.**

 **See you in the next one.**


	11. Non-Conformist

**Non-Conformist**

* * *

Finding where Natasha had gone wasn't difficult, considering the limited space we had to search through – though where we found her was a tad surprising. She had pulled away a bookcase to reveal a hidden elevator, simply raising a curious eyebrow at the two of us as we entered the room before stepping into the machine. We followed behind without hesitation, both wanting to see what was so secretive that the SSR felt they had to hide a secret base _inside_ a secret base.

The three of us were silent as the elevator carried us down, the doors sliding open on the only other floor it led to. The room in front of us was dark with dust floating freely through the air, showing just how long it had been since another living soul had set foot inside.

Steve was the first to step forward, with Natasha and I following on either side of him. Without prompting from any of us, lights began to flicker on around the room. Narrowing my eyes slightly, I stepped to the front of our small group to get a closer look at the outdated console with nothing but a single overturned chair in front of it.

While Steve fixed the chair to its rightful position – whether out of habit or the fact that the mess actually bothered him – Natasha shook her head disbelievingly. "This can't be the data point," she scoffed, shaking her head. "This technology is ancient."

"So am I." I held my hand out to Natasha, wiggling my fingers impatiently when she merely glanced at my palm. With a resigned sigh she dropped the USB drive into my waiting hand before taking a step back, holding her arms out to her sides as if to say 'give it your best shot'. "Sometimes the old-fashioned way is the best way."

I walked towards the off-white keyboard that rested in front of the main monitor, trailing my fingers over the dusty keys before sliding my eyes to the right. A distinctively new blue and black box rested beside my hand. "And sometimes it isn't," I finished before plugging the USB into the waiting port.

As If I had flipped some sort of switch, the rest of the room came to life in a blur of blinking lights and whirring machinery. It was far larger than I had originally anticipated, the expanse of it all almost intimidating just by the size alone.

" _Initiate system?"_

The three of us simultaneously turned our heads at the sound of the robotic voice, which echoed the words written in green text across the largest screen. Even though I was closest to the keyboard, Natasha took it upon herself to step forward and type out the response – _Yes._

"Shall we play a game?" she asked in a low, teasing voice before glancing at both Steve and I with a chuckle. "It's from a movie that was real – "

"Yeah," Steve nodded. "We've seen it."

I rolled my eyes at his response, crossing my arms over my chest. "Liar. You fell asleep forty minutes in. I don't think that counts."

" _I_ think it counts," he argued lightly, though I could tell it was in a joking manner and didn't bother to respond. Even if I would have wanted to, I would have been distracted by the large monitor as it began to make electrical crackles, a blurry image slowly conjuring itself.

" _Rogers, Steven. Born 1918. Romanoff, Natalia Alianovna. Born 1984. Moore, Joanne. Born 1917."_

"This is some kind of recording," Natasha tried to rationalize as the rectangular camera perched on top of the computer moved freely, examining the three of us.

" _I am not a recording, fräulein. I may not be the man I was when the Captain took me prisoner in 1945, but I am alive."_

My eyes had remained glued to the main screen until I saw Steve stiffen beside me. I turned to him only to see his hard gaze upon one of the smaller screens to the right. Following his eyes, I saw a black and white photo of a man that instantly had my blood boiling in my veins.

Dr. Arnim Zola.

Natasha, noticing our line of sight, asked us if we knew what this thing was. Steve was the one to answer, reaffirming his grip on his shield as he spoke. "Arnim Zola was a German scientist that worked with Red Skull. He's been dead for years."

" _First correction – I am Swiss! Next – look around you. I have never been more alive. In 1972, I received a terminal diagnosis. Science could not save my body. My mind, however, that was worth saving – on two hundred thousand feet of databanks. You are standing in my brain."_

"Why is your brain inside of a SHIELD building?" I asked as I stepped closer to the monitor, though I was unsure of whether I should be watching the screen or the camera. "How did you get inside the SSR?"

" _Invited."_

"Operation Paperclip," Natasha explained. "After World War Two, SHIELD recruited German scientists with strategic value."

" _They thought I could help their cause. I also helped my own."_

Steve, who had been walking in a circle around the equipment before us as if surveying it for weak points, had finally returned to his previous spot at my side and was shaking his head in disbelief. "Hydra died with Red Skull."

" _Cut off one head, two more shall take its place."_

The easily recognizable Hydra insignia flashed on screen before returning to Zola's face, though it had split in two, mimicking his words. In a low voice, Steve demanded, "Prove it." It almost looked as if Steve's words had put a smirk on Zola's face as he accessed the archives, the screens surrounding him beginning to play old black and white videos as he spoke.

" _Hydra was founded on the belief that humanity could not be trusted with its own freedom. What we did not realize was that if you try to take that freedom, they resist. The war taught us much. Humanity needed to surrender its freedom willingly. After the war, SHIELD was founded, and I was recruited. The new Hydra grew – a beautiful parasite inside SHIELD."_

I felt my chest wrench painfully at the images pulsing on and off the screen. Steve in his original uniform, marching in front of a band of troops into battle. Buildings crumbling into nothing more than rubble as bombs rained down from the sky. Howard and Peggy standing inside an office, the SHIELD logo branded on the wall behind them. Clippings from old newspapers announcing that the war had ended. That we were safe. Almost reflexively my hand twitched away from my side, latching onto the sleeve of Steve's jacket.

" _For seventy years Hydra has been secretly feeding crisis, reaping war. And when history did not cooperate?"_

My own picture appeared on screen for only a brief second before a thick black line appeared over my eyes, fading into the background as a bright red star consumed the monitor. Another headline – _Stark's Assistant Gone Missing_. A stock photo of the Howling Commandoes, though it was incomplete. To Steve's left stood not the woman meant to be there, but instead an empty space.

" _History was changed."_

"What are you saying?" I dropped my grip on Steve's jacket, though he was quick to replace it with his own firm hand on my forearm. "Hydra somehow changed history? Made it as if I never happened?"

" _It was easier than one might think."_

His words sent a hollow chill through my chest, making me feel once again as if I were nothing more than the tag-along. Before I had the time to truly contemplate the weight of his implications, he continued to explain the simplicity of wiping me from history books in a light tone that didn't belong in this heavy conversation.

" _In order for humanity to accept their fate, there had to be a story in place to show them just how weak they truly are. The world did not need heroes – little orphan girl who dragged themselves out of the muck to proudly stand at the side of the man who would sacrifice his life for his country. The world needed to conform. You, Joanne, did not conform. And so you were erased."_

A picture of me standing with the Commandos – faded to nothing. Me standing at Howard's side as he revealed his next big invention – burned to a crisp. Working on the Vita-Ray machine, earning my third doctorate, walking with Erskine, shaking hands with Governor Brandt – all gone. As if they had never happened. As if _I_ had never happened.

The full weight of what Hydra had done to me barely had time to settle in as Natasha spoke up, though I was only half-listening as I tried to comprehend my own personal crisis. "That's impossible. SHIELD would have stopped you."

" _Accidents will happen."_

If the cold, cruel tone of his voice hadn't been enough to send a fearful chill down my spine, the headline detailing Howard's death would have done just fine. Though I had known for quite some time that he was gone, never before had I looked into the details of his death. It had never been confirmed other than in my own head. Now? The words sat six feet in front of my face, mocking me.

" _Hydra created a world so chaotic, that humanity is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom to gain its security. Once the purification process is complete, Hydra's new world order will arise. We have won, Captain. Your death amounts to the same as Joanne's life – a zero sum."_

Before I could blink, Steve had released his hold on me in favor of stepping forward to smash his shield against the monitor displaying Zola's face. I might have felt a happy twinge of revenge if it didn't take only half a second for his smug face to reappear on one of the smaller screens surrounding the shattered one.

" _As I was saying – "_

"What's on this drive?" Steve interrupted, clenching the hand not holding his shield into a tight fist.

" _Project Insight requires… insight. So I wrote an algorithm."_

"What algorithm?"

" _The answer to your question is fascinating. Unfortunately, you shall be too dead to hear it."_

The sound of metal scraping against metal had the three of us pivoting on our heels to face the elevator as a barrier closed over it, Steve's shield bouncing uselessly against the doors when he threw it a moment too late. My phone beeped in my pocket as his shield bounced against the wall before flying back into his waiting hands, and I pulled it out to glance at the screen.

Though I hadn't ever used the tracking device before, the bold letters announcing TIME TO IMPACT were fairly difficult to misinterpret. "Incoming missile," I informed Steve and Natasha, showing the screen to the woman standing by my right side when she leaned closer. "Thirty seconds to impact."

"SHIELD launched this," Natasha breathed in disbelief with wide eyes before snatching the USB from its port and shoving it in her jacket.

" _I'm afraid I have been stalling, Captain. Admit it – it's better this way. We are, all of us, out of time."_

I didn't want to run. I didn't want to leave Zola to be destroyed, leaving him unable to answer my questions. I didn't want to have the knowledge that I had been purposely stricken from all records with no possibility of ever learning how or why it had been done.

But I didn't have a choice.

Steve ripped a grate from the floor, tossing it carelessly to the side before wrapping a protective arm around my waist. Natasha took the hint and jumped inside the hole as Steve pulled me along with him, shielding my body with his own as he pressed the two of us and Natasha into the corner of the hole. Holding his shield above our huddles forms as the only barrier between us and the crumbling concrete, he pressed his forehead against my temple with gritted teeth.

No light filtered through the cracks. No air was available to our lungs as dirt and dust flowed into our lungs. We were being buried alive, and the only thing keeping me from being crushed by cement was a thin piece of vibranium – a thin piece of vibranium certainly not big enough to cover three people.

Fighting the urge to save myself first, I grasped Steve's arm and shifted it as best I could so that the shield protected Natasha. Of the three of us she was certainly the most fragile, and would need all the help she could get if we wanted her to pull through. Steve resisted for a moment, though he was unable to speak through the sheer amount of effort he was putting into keeping the building from completely crushing us all.

In a small act of reassurance, I used the hand not keeping his shield angled over Natasha to wrap around his back with my fingers curling into his shirt. With the two of us pressed as tightly together as physically possible, crouching over the form of Natasha that I only now realized was unconscious, we waited for the avalanche of rubble to slow.


	12. The Matter of Mattering

**The Matter of Mattering**

* * *

The tires carrying us to safety let out a high-pitched squeal as we sped away from Camp Lehigh, a thick plume of dust behind us the only evidence we had ever been there in the first place. When the rocks had ceased to fall, Steve had dragged Natasha from beneath the rubble while I looked ruefully towards the destroyed computers. Now, with our favorite assassin taking a much deserved rest in the backseat, I took the wheel of the car while Steve sat staring out the passenger side window with his fingers curled beneath his chin.

The car was quiet for a long while, with only the sound of pavement beneath us as I drove without a destination. We couldn't go home, and we certainly couldn't go to SHIELD… What else did we have?

"I don't have a plan," Steve admitted quietly, voicing my thoughts with a despondent shrug of his shoulders. "For once, I don't know what to do, Jo. I never saw this – _any_ of this – coming."

I looked to the man on my right. His face showed fear, sadness, vulnerability… Turning my eyes back to the road ahead, I took a deep breath through my nose before moving one hand from the wheel to his own in his lap. Almost immediately his fingers curled protectively over mine, causing a faint smile to pull at my lips.

I glanced in the rearview mirror to see if Natasha's eyes had opened. They hadn't. "We'll get through this," I sighed. "Somehow, we will beat this. We always do."

Steve made a sound that wasn't quite a scoff, but wasn't quite a laugh either. "Since when did you become the optimist in the group?"

I tightened my grip on his hand for a moment before returning it to the wheel, allowing his question to linger unanswered as his words triggered a thought in the back of my mind. "I think I know someone who can help us."

* * *

With the car abandoned a few blocks back in an unsuspecting parking lot, a curious Steve sending odd glances my way every few seconds, and a half-conscious Natasha trailing behind us, I climbed the three short steps up to the back door of the only person I knew who I thought might not be out to get us. I sent a reassuring smile to both of my companions before knocking.

There was no response for long enough to make me think that he might not be home, but eventually the blinds on the other side of the glass lifted to reveal a very confused Sam Wilson. When he made no move to do anything other than stare questioningly at us, I pointed at the thin door handle and made a sweeping motion.

Catching on, Sam unlocked the door before sliding it open and leaning lightly against the frame as he glanced at the three dirt-covered, bruised, bloodied and battered people standing on his back porch. His eyes turned to me last, and when they did I could see the questions he was dying to ask. Instead, he offered a small nod. "Hey, girl."

"Sammy," I returned with a nod of my own. "Remember that time you guessed I could make bubble wrap dangerous if I set my mind to it?" He nodded again, this time slowly and with a hint of apprehension. "Turns out collapsing buildings are pretty dangerous too."

"Everyone we know is trying to kill us," Natasha said bluntly, drawing Sam's attention to her. Of the three of us, she was obviously the most injured. Sam did a double-take of the dried blood trail on her cheek before flicking his eyes to Steve, then finally back to me.

"Not everyone." Pushing the door open further, Sam stepped to the side and motioned for us to come inside.

I let Steve and Natasha walk in ahead of me so that I could lay a hand on Sam's shoulder after he closed the door and locked it once more before shutting the blinds. "Thank you," I said lowly, only for him to hear.

Sam patted my own shoulder with a smile before tucking his arm across the back of my neck, pulling me into a sideways hug as he walked me further into the house. "Somebody's gotta look after you, Annie. Who better but your best friend?"

"Clint wouldn't be very happy to hear you say that." At Sam's curious look, I merely shrugged his arm off my shoulders with a small grin. "I'm sure you'll meet him sooner or later. For now, the only question that needs answering around here is where the hell your shower is."

Sam let out a low chuckle at my words, pointing towards a hallway leading past the kitchen and further into the house. "Guest bedroom is the last door on the right. I assume you and your friends will be staying the night?"

A quick glance to the black night outside reminded me just how late it was, and sent a fresh wave of exhaustion through my bones. "Even superheroes need their beauty sleep," I joked with a dramatic sigh, making my way towards the hallway.

Sam merely smirked before following me towards the hallway, though he paused at a door on the left while I continued towards the bedroom. When I walked in I saw that Natasha had already curled up on the bed, her wet hair draped across the pillow. This was the second time in one day that I had seen her sleep, and it dawned on me that never before had I seen her look so vulnerable. I wasn't sure if it was because she trusted me or she was simply _that_ tired.

A chuckle over my shoulder alerted me to Sam's presence, and I turned to see that he was holding three pillows and blankets in his arms. "I guess she was ready for her beauty sleep. You and Rogers can take my room across the hall, I'll take the couch." Before I could protest, he was already walking back down the hallway. "Don't worry, it pulls out."

While I considered whether or not to pursue Sam, I heard the water shut off in the bathroom. I turned back to see Steve exit the small room with his dirty clothes back on, but his face and arms rid of the remains of Camp Lehigh. Before he could say anything I put a finger to my lips and pointed at Natasha. He nodded his understanding and joined me in the hallway.

I closed the door behind us before pointing to the door directly across from hers, signaling for him to enter the room. Following after him, I in turn closed the door to the room we would be staying in. "I'm going to use Sam's shower," I told him before moving towards the other door in the room. "You can go ahead to bed."

Steve said nothing as I stepped into the white tiled room, shutting the door and leaning against it with a heavy sigh. For a moment, I simply stood in silence, allowing the fact that I wasn't in immediate danger wash over me with a feeling of calm I hadn't experienced in quite some time.

My jumbled and frantic thoughts were pushed aside as I made my way to the shower, my incessant need to worry shoved to the back of my mind as I turned on the water, my racing heart and frayed nerves soothed as I stripped my sullied clothing and stepped beneath the waterfall.

I wasn't sure how long I stayed in the small space, massaging bubbles into my hair and lathering fresh scented soap over my bruised skin. Longer than I normally would have, at least. When I did finally shut off the water that had started to cool over time and dry myself off, I dressed myself in only my shirt and underwear before entering my room for the night.

Seeing Steve sitting up in the bed and waiting for me wasn't exactly a surprise, but still I rolled my eyes with a resigned sigh. "I told you to go to sleep."

"I couldn't without talking to you first," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world – which honestly, it was to me. Still, I had hoped that he would have been tired enough to forego any conversation until the morning. I was wrong. "I couldn't go to sleep without telling you how important you are."

That made me pause beside the bed with my hand on the blankets, stopping before I could toss them to the end of the bed where they would go unused that night. Furrowing my eyebrows in question, I lifted one knee to lean on the bed with one foot remaining on the floor as I considered Steve in front of me. "What do you mean by that?"

Steve shifted so that he also faced me, his back ramrod straight against the headboard behind him. "I've been thinking about what you said – about me being on the path to giving up on you. I've been thinking about what Zola said. I've been thinking about our trip to the Smithsonian. I've been thinking about how little recognition you get for everything you do, how little appreciation you're given in light of everything you've sacrificed. And I couldn't go to sleep without telling you how important you are – to the Avengers, to the world, and to me."

My head tilted to the side affectionately as a grateful smile tugged at my lips. He had been worried about me not seeing myself as important. Twelve hours ago I would have argued with him, but now… "Thank you. But darling, I have never felt more important in my life than I do tonight."

That seemed to throw him off a bit. His back slumped a little as his expression fell from one of confidence to one of confusion. "You haven't? I mean, not that you shouldn't, but with everything that's happened… I just thought – "

"Steve, honey," I chuckled with a small shake of my head. "Were you paying any attention to what happened tonight? What Zola told us – told _me_?"

"Well, _yes_ , but I – "

"They were threatened by me!" I let out a sharp laugh, fixing myself to sit cross-legged on the bed with my hands wrapped around my ankles. "Hydra was so scared of little ol' Jo that they felt the need to pretend I wasn't real! I'm practically Hydra's monster under the bed, and they needed mommy Zola to plug in a nightlight to scare me off. I can't think of a bigger compliment!"

Steve couldn't seem to decide whether he should be glad or confused. When he pursed his lips as if to speak but only stuttered instead, I took pity on him. Pushing myself further onto the bed until I was kneeling at his side, a grateful smile took over my features. "When I saw that exhibit in the Smithsonian – saw what had happened to me and my reputation, to my story – I felt useless. I thought that maybe the reason the world forgot about me was because I was forgettable. That I was known only as a secretary playing dress-up with the big boys because that's what I was."

When Steve opened his mouth to protest I shushed him with a finger on his lips so that I could finish. "But now I know that I couldn't have been any more wrong. Hydra saw me as a threat, even after I was dead for all they knew. They saw all the blood and sweat that I put into making something out of myself and feared it would inspire others to rise against them. And yes, what they did was wrong and disgusting and everything that they represent, but now that I know what they did and why they did it… They can never take my past away from me, even if I'm the only one who remembers it. I know who I am, and I know that I'm important. That I matter."

Steve's calloused fingers trailed up my forearm before locking themselves around my wrist, moving my hand from his mouth to rest against his cheek as he finally returned my smile, all worry washed from his features. I tickled his jaw with my fingertips as I leaned forward on my knees, my vision going cross-eyed as my nose nearly bumped against his from our close proximity. "I know you worry about me," I whispered to him, resisting the urge to ruin this moment with teasing when my breath fanning over his face caused a blush to spread up his cheeks. "And even though sometimes I forget to mention it, I adore you for it."

I watched as Steve hesitated slightly before inching forward, though his lips didn't meet mine as I had anticipated. Instead, he pressed his forehead to mine as his eyes slid shut with an almost silent sigh. Worried that I had said something wrong, I tried to pull back only for him to stop me with a firm hand on the back of my neck.

"I'm so… _relieved_."

I tried to look up at him, but thanks to how close we were I saw only a blur of his face in front of mine. The strain it caused on my eyes prompted me to close them, and simply settle for the feeling of his jaw moving beneath my hand and his fingers that held me in place. "What do you mean by that?"

"For these past few days, you've been so distant and unfeeling." Again he stopped me from pulling away, repositioning his fingers to tangle in the small strands of hair at the base of my neck. "I was so worried. Worried that you were losing yourself, that you didn't believe in yourself anymore, and that you didn't believe in me to take care of you. Do you have any idea how _infuriating_ it is to watch the person you love just _give up_?"

I tried to think of a time I could remember anyone I loved give up. My old friends, my new ones, family and loved ones. "No," I admitted with surprise thick in my voice. Now that I thought about it, I couldn't even imagine the gut-wrenching feeling of seeing anybody stop trying, to see somebody I loved be weak and not be able to help them. For them to not _want_ my help. Thinking of making Steve feel like that – being the reason for his pain… "I'm so sorry."

He shook his head against mine, releasing his hand on my wrist and shifting the other so that he cupped my face between his cool palms. "I'm just glad you're back with me."

And I was glad to be back. In order to show him just how glad I was, I finally ended the gentle brushes of our skin by closing the miniscule gap between us, snaking my arms behind his neck as I kissed him. His response was immediate, his hands sliding down my neck with spread fingers taking in every inch until they stopped at my waist, tugging me closer. Steve and I had never been very good at fighting for long, and when we did make up it was almost worth having fought in the first place.

Moving one hand to grab the headboard behind him, I used the new leverage to shift us so that he laid flat on the bed as I hovered over him dotting teasing kisses anywhere I could reach. I felt his laughter rumble in his chest before I heard it, and it only encouraged me to continue. "You shouldn't sleep in clothes that filthy," I muttered in a mock-scolding voice against his neck, smirking when I felt him twitch beneath me. "Should I help you change as an apology for my behavior these last few days?"

"God help me," he groaned in answer, causing a chuckle to escape my lips.

"Oh darling, it isn't God you should be calling out for."

Just as Steve grew fed up with my teasing and moved to flip us over so that he was leaning over me our fun was interrupted by a scandalized shout from the doorway. Immediately Steve's face was beet red as he pushed away from me as I growled with annoyance, sitting up to glare at the intruder. When I saw Sam covering his eyes with a pile of clothes at his feet it wasn't difficult to guess what had happened.

Before either of us could explain ourselves or attempt to apologize, Sam began to furiously shake his head while avoiding eye contact, kicking the clothes further into the room. "Oh, _no_! Absolutely not! I don't care who you are or how long it's been, there will be _none of that_ in my bed. You can wait until after people stop trying to kill you and do whatever the hell you want in the comfort of your own home. Until then, _no._ "

At the end of his tirade, Sam slammed the door behind himself, leaving Steve and I tangled against each other on the bed in a mix of resigned acceptance and frustration. While Steve fell back on the mattress with his red face buried in his hands muttering to himself about indecency, I released a disappointed sigh and moved to scoop up the fresh change of clothing while silently cursing Sam for being a good host.


End file.
